Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey, it’s me again. Voicemail three hundred thirty-seven. Obnoxious, right? But, um, it’s just that you...you haven’t been picking up or returning my calls, so...uh, I’m on my way over. So, hide the strippers. Um... Yeah, um... I just hope you’re okay... Okay. Bye.”

The last few days have been long and...well, boring, sitting in the hospital and recovering from poison. And while Chloe is grateful to be alive—of course she is—it’s felt like something has been missing. Well. Something has been missing, and that something is her annoying, frustrating, yet charming, wonderful partner.

When she woke up to find Lucifer sitting at her bedside, her heart had done a funny, hopeful flip. Everything had been put on pause when he burst into her room and found her with a nosebleed that wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t recall ever seeing him looking afraid, but he’d put on a brave face and assured her that she would be fine; that they would find the antidote. And somehow—miraculously—he did. Despite the formula living only in the mind of a dead man.

But she’d seen the relief on Lucifer’s face when she woke up. And the profound sadness that she couldn’t account for. She hoped that they could pick up where they left off after their kiss. After that hug they shared on the staircase of the university lab. They are so close to something, she can feel it. What that something might be, she isn’t entirely sure, but her gut (and her heart) is telling her that whatever it is, she won’t regret it. Won’t regret him.

Because despite his many flaws, despite the way he calls himself the Devil (and genuinely believes it), one thing she knows about Lucifer Morningstar is that he’s a good man. A man who has been hurt badly in the past, so badly, in fact, that he believes himself to be a monster. And though, when their partnership began, she wanted nothing to do with him, he turned out to be the best partner she’s ever had. Not to mention her best friend. And she wants more; she can admit that now. She’s wanted more for quite some time.

“You know, this whole poisoning thing has just...really put a pause on everything that’s been going on with you and I, so...should we just pick up where we left off?”

He smiled and patted her hand. “I think, right now, you just need to focus on feeling better, Detective.”

Chloe tried to hide her disappointment when he got up to leave. All she really wanted after her ordeal was to spend time with her daughter and her partner, but it seemed he had other ideas. Since then, he hasn’t been answering her calls or her texts. And she’s getting worried.

Hence, the late evening visit.

She was only discharged from the hospital a few hours ago and she’s supposed to be at home resting. But she felt...agitated alone in her quiet apartment. Maze is out doing...Maze things; Trixie is with Dan for the next few days to allow Chloe the rest she’s supposed to be having. She tried to tell herself it isn’t out of character for Lucifer to sometimes go quiet for a few days, but she’d thought...

Now, she’s standing in his elevator, biting her lip and twisting her fingers together anxiously. Part of her is expecting to find him mid-orgy, or to at least have...company...because that’s who Lucifer is and what he does. The rest of her is saying that something is wrong—really wrong. Like it had been a few months ago when he went into self-destruct mode and nearly got himself killed by a sniper. She still doesn’t know the story there.

Because he never tells her anything real.

Lucifer talks in religious metaphors—to cope with his past trauma, she thinks. And the story he’s come up with is...involved, not like he sat down one night and thought it all up, but like he’s actually lived it. Despite his childish behavior a lot of the time and his ignorance to even the most basic of emotions, Lucifer is actually really intelligent. So it isn’t outside the realm of possibility that he could have thought up this whole story and sunk into it to deal with his pain.

But there’s always that question of what if...?

What if the things he says are true? That he’s really the Devil and he’s spent the majority of his life running Hell. That his hypnotism mojo eye trick isn’t just hypnotism, but some divine power. What would she do then? Because the Devil is evil, right? That’s what religion and history say, at least. Chloe has never believed in any of that stuff—God, the Devil, Heaven, Hell—and she’s never taken stock in the idea of one being that pops up on people’s shoulders, whispering that they should commit evil deeds.

She knows that there are good people and there are bad people. Hell, it’s why she has job security; humans commit wicked deeds everyday, but not because the Devil made them do it. Because they have free will to make their own decisions and they make the choices to commit crime. There’s no divine being up in the sky overseeing it all and dictating people’s lives. There is no Heaven or Hell.

And Lucifer Morningstar is not the Devil.

He can’t be. Lucifer is many things—self-absorbed, impulsive, reckless, narcissistic—but he isn’t evil. Not even close. Yes, he can be violent, but he would never harm anybody who was innocent. The Devil is supposed to be the worst monster to ever monster, and while Lucifer has his dark sides...he’s not that. Never that. He has her back in ways nobody ever has; though he’s spent the majority of their partnership trying to get her into bed, he didn’t sleep with her the one time she threw herself at him while drunk; he saved her and Trixie from Malcolm that one time (and she still wants to know how he managed to get up off the floor after being shot).

He saved her this time, too. How she doesn’t know—he claims it was a team effort—but she wouldn’t be here right now if not for him. The Devil that the world knows wouldn’t have done that; wouldn’t have bothered even trying. So if, by some minuscule chance, Lucifer is the Devil, then he certainly isn’t evil.

The moment the elevators open with a soft ding, Chloe’s gut tightens, warning her again that something is wrong. She steps into the darkened penthouse—it’s never dark; there’s always some light on, whether it be the tree root chandelier or the backlight on the wall of liquor bottles—and looks around warily. Hesitantly, she reaches over to the wall beside the elevator and flicks on a light switch. What she sees makes her heart sink: all the furniture, save one armchair aimed towards the balcony, is covered with white dust covers. Including the piano.

“Lucifer?” she calls, even though she knows it’s futile. She’s already reached the most logical conclusion, but she wouldn’t be her if she didn’t find out for certain. “Are you here?”

Silence.

He’s gone. But...where did he go? And why? More importantly, why didn’t he tell her that he was leaving? Her first thought is that something came up with his family. She doesn’t know much about them, apart from how his father is a neglectful bastard and if she ever meets him, she intends to have words for him—and he’d better hope she doesn’t have her gun on her. But she does know that they’ve hurt Lucifer in the past to the point that he, at the very least, has developed PTSD. The scars on his back are indicative of physical abuse. Lucifer even told her it was his father’s fault, even if he did follow that up with, “Maze did, I told her to”.

The timing is suspect, though, and she can’t help wondering if he ran because the two of them were getting closer. Maybe she should have expected this; after all, Lucifer is the most commitment-phobic person she’s ever known. It’s only been a few days since she interviewed ninety-two of his ex-lovers from an eight week period—and according to Dan, Lucifer told him that was a ‘dry spell’.

It’s one of the many reasons Chloe has been so hesitant to start something with him; she doesn’t want to just be another notch on his bedpost. If they’re to be anything more than partners and friends, she needs to know he’s all-in. And it seemed like he was, when they were on that staircase and he was softly asking, “This is real. Isn’t it?”

“Guess it wasn’t,” she whispers under her breath. Her eyes start to burn as she looks around the penthouse for any sign of where he might have gone, but there’s—

Luggage.

There’s luggage at the foot of his bedroom stairs that she didn’t see on her initial scan of the room. Which means, he’s still here. Relief sets in; at the very least, she can find out what’s going on and why he hasn’t been replying to her messages.

“Lucif—”

The man himself appears at the top of the stairs, adjusting his cufflinks. He looks tired, as if he’s slept about as well as Chloe has the last few nights. But it’s more than that, something deeper, something worse. He looks defeated and sad. Devastated. He looks heartbroken...

What happened to him?

Lucifer finally looks up at her, apparently too distracted to notice he isn’t alone, which isn’t like him—at all. He freezes like a deer in headlights, his mouth falling open in surprise, though he closes it quickly, swallowing hard. “Detective,” he says quietly. For the briefest of moments, he seems pleased to see her, but something passes through his eyes, and pleased turns to an inscrutable mask, his eyes hard. “What brings you here?”

Chloe wants to demand to know what’s going on, where he’s going, and why. And why hasn’t he been answering his phone? But what comes out is, “You’re leaving?”

It’s a weak whisper, but she knows he hears it, because he averts his eyes, doing that swallowing thing again. He rubs his chest like it hurts, and she briefly wonders if something happened to him, but physically, he looks fine.

The question seems to take even more out of him, but he hides it quickly, still not meeting her gaze. “Yes, that was rather the intention,” he says breezily, jogging down the stairs and making a beeline for his bar. “I...need to get away for a while.”

“How long is a while?” she asks, forcing her feet to follow him.

He doesn’t answer immediately, pouring himself a drink. Typically, he wouldn’t hesitate to offer her a drink, or to just pour her one, regardless—if she doesn’t drink it, he will. Up close, he looks even more...not himself. Pale and without his usual joie de vivre that always seemed intrinsic to his personality.

“Lucifer? What’s wrong? What happened?” she asks softly, reaching for the hand he has resting on the bar top.

There is a split-second of what looks like longing in his eyes, then it vanishes (or he masks it, more like) and his hand pulls away before she can touch him. “Was there something I can do for you, Detective?” he asks. His tone is polite, but there’s a slight edge to it that she can’t identify. “I didn’t realize that you’d left the hospital yet.”

Anger flares up within her. “Oh? Thought you had more time to take off without letting me know?” She’s hoping he’ll tell her that he intended to inform her of his departure all along; that he hadn’t planned on ditching her.

But then his eyes dart away and there’s a flicker of guilt on his face. He doesn’t answer the question either way—and he doesn’t lie.

Chloe feels like she’s been punched. Here she’s been, worried about him for days, imagining that when they saw each other again, they could talk about...well, them, and the whole time, he’s been planning on leaving. Without bothering to let her know.

“Wow. You really were, weren’t you? Why? Because I was poisoned? I mean, I know that it’s scary, seeing someone you care about nearly die, but—”

“That isn’t why, Detective,” he says in a low voice.

When he doesn’t continue, she comes to the next most logical conclusion. “Because we were...getting closer?” she asks, her voice weaker than she hoped it would be.

His jaw tightens in answer. So, that’s a yes...

“Lucifer, you have to know that I wouldn’t...push you into something you weren’t ready for.” Her heart sinks further; he’s running from her. From them. “Look, if you aren’t ready, it’s okay. That’s why I wanted to sit down and talk to you.”

Lucifer sighs, throwing back his whiskey, though it looks like he’s having difficulty swallowing. “I’ve decided to go to Las Vegas for a while,” he says quietly, completely derailing the conversation. “As I said, I need to get away.”

“Have I done something?”

Finally, he meets her gaze, aghast. “No, Detective. I assure you that it is nothing you have done; you’ve been...” His expression softens slightly. “You’ve been lovely. But recently, I received some news that has changed...everything, and...” He sighs, trailing off and pouring another drink.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly.

He gives her his usual charming smile, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. “Yes, of course. Always, Detective.”

“Lucifer...”

She knows he doesn’t lie, but he does twist the truth. So, him saying that he’s okay could literally mean that he’s physically completely fine while on the inside he’s an utter wreck. And she’d bet anything right now that that is the case.

“Maybe I can help?” she offers tentatively. In the past, when she’s offered a shoulder to lean on, he’s pushed her away or told her that she “can’t understand and never will”. Even after a year of partnership, Lucifer still doesn’t seem to understand what that word really means. He doesn’t trust her.

He scoffs. “Unfortunately, Detective, this is one problem for which there does not seem to be a satisfactory solution,” he says grimly.

“Well, you don’t know that unless you try.” Inwardly, she winces at the cliché, and the lame delivery, but she has to find some way to get through to him. She doesn’t want him to leave. Even if it means that they don’t happen and they just remain friends... She doesn’t want to lose him—as a partner or as a friend. “Come on, we’ve taken on some pretty big problems, I bet we can sort out whatever yours is, too.”

Sadness cracks through his impenetrable mask. Which likely means that whatever is eating away at him is really bad. “I wish that were the case, Detective,” he murmurs. “Truly, I do.”

Chloe masks her own sadness with irritation, though she does try to temper it. “So, what? You’re just going to give up and leave? What about Lux? What about the LAPD? Our partnership?” What about me? she doesn’t ask out loud.

“Perhaps it is time for me to move on,” he says into his whiskey glass, mostly to himself. “To allow everyone their freedom.”

From the time the poison hit her veins and started making its way through her body, Chloe has felt icy cold, and nothing she did worked to warm her up. Since getting the antidote, that icy cold has started to fade. It’s back now. “What does that mean?” she whispers. “Do you feel like I’m...holding you back or something?’

“Rather the other way around, Detective,” he says bitterly. “You wouldn’t understand.”

That irritation breaks free; she is so tired of hearing that. “No, you’re right. I wouldn’t. Because you never tell me anything,” she snaps. “You know, I’ve tried, Lucifer. I’ve tried for a year to get past these walls you have built around you, and every time I think I’m making headway, you push me back again. I don’t understand, because you never explain anything to me. So, for once, why don’t you try explaining it to me?” She stops herself short of saying please. She isn’t going to beg him. Not when he’s planning to walk out on her like this.

The look Lucifer gives her makes her shiver. There’s something...old in his eyes. Ancient, even. Something so deep she truly can't comprehend it—and part of her isn’t sure that she wants to. She can see pain and grief and despair, and it makes her want to hug him; to protect him from everything, including himself. She doesn’t think he’s going to answer her, or if he does, it will be some flippant deflection using his metaphors.

“Very well,” he says quietly, stiffly. “I suppose if anybody deserves to know, it’s you, Detective. Would you like to have a seat?”

She shakes her head. “No. Here’s good.”

He shrugs. “Closer to the scotch, anyway...” He sighs, taking a moment to get his thoughts in order. Setting aside his glass, he twists his cufflinks in a way she’s come to believe is a nervous tic, a way to expel excess energy. And he still won’t meet her gaze for longer than a few seconds. “It’s not as though you’ll believe me, anyway.”

“Try me,” she says gently. “You might be surprised.”

Although he looks skeptical, he takes a deep breath. “As you wish,” he exhales, still fidgeting. “Please understand that I didn’t know about any of this when we first met. I never would have—” He tenses his jaw, shaking his head at himself. “I wouldn’t have done a lot of the things I’ve done, had I known.” He sighs and looks at her more seriously than he ever has; her stomach twists anxiously. “You’re a Miracle, Chloe.”

The use of her first name gives her a jolt, because he never calls her by it. Only in moments of great meaning. And then his words process in her mind. She blinks uncomprehendingly at him. “Um, thank you...?” she says, wondering if ‘miracle’ is a flirtation. Except, that doesn’t make sense; usually, he would have a charming grin on his face if he’s flirting or a twinkle in his eyes, at least. There’s nothing but grim determination and resignation. “I’m not following, Lucifer.”

He runs a hand through his already messy hair. Another indication that something is really wrong in his world; his hair is always impeccably styled without a single strand out of place. Now, his hair is a riot of curls. Chloe didn’t even know that his hair was curly...

He shakes his head. “No, that isn’t...” Again, he sighs. “I mean that in the most literal of terms. You, Chloe Decker, are a Miracle of God.”

Chloe’s stomach sinks. And here she thought there was actually something going on with him. But no, it’s more of his metaphors. “Lucifer...”

As if he knows what she’s about to say, he forges on, “Thirty-six years ago, my brother, Amenadiel, was tasked by our father, God, to come to Earth and bestow a blessing upon a couple struggling to conceive a child. Nine months later, they had a baby girl. Those parents were yours and you were the baby girl. A literal Miracle,” he emphasizes.

She wants to deny everything he’s saying. To roll her eyes and scoff. For once, she goes along with his delusions, trying not to think about how her parents did have trouble conceiving. And they called her their little miracle.

“And why would God do that?” she asks skeptically. “Does He do that a lot?”

“No. Never before and never since,” Lucifer answers immediately. “As for why...” He hesitates. “It would seem that you were placed here on Earth in my direct path. For what exact purpose, I don’t know and my father isn’t the sharing sort. You make me vulnerable, so are you here to harm me in some way? To send me back to Hell? Are your feelings even your own? Do you have free will? That is why I’m leaving, Detective. To give you back your free will, your choice, because if my father is using you as some sort of manipulation against me...well. I won’t stand for it,” he says firmly, shooting a glare up at the ceiling. “I won’t abide by you being forced to...care for me. You deserve to live your own life.”

Pinching the skin between her eyebrows to ward off a headache, Chloe sighs. “Lucifer...” Where does she even start with this? “If this is some elaborate plot to get out of...of whatever it is we started, don’t bother, I get it.”

He frowns at her. “What? No! Detective, I am telling you the truth! You were put in my path by my father, and—”

“No, you know what? I’ve had enough, Lucifer. Maybe this is my fault for letting this go on as long as it has, but you...” She shakes her head, blinking back the tears in her eyes. “You don’t have to find a way to let me down gently or whatever. If you don’t want to be with me, fine. I wasn’t about to force you. But don’t play games with me. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be honest with me—”

“I am being honest with you!” he says again, this time desperately. “Detective, this isn’t about me not wanting you. It is about your freedom of choice, and I can’t trust that you have that!”

Maybe she should have known this was going to happen. Lucifer seems to be allergic to responsibility and commitment, preferring to spend his nights with strangers who don’t care about him than a life with somebody who cares very much. And that’s his choice. But she’d hoped...

“I should go,” she says quietly, her heart breaking. “Have fun in Vegas, Lucifer.” She bites her lip against “don’t bother coming back”. She wouldn’t mean it, anyway; whatever his feelings for her, or lack thereof, he’s still her best friend.

This should have been expected. People always leave her—her father, her mother, Dan... But she thought Lucifer was different. He can be flighty and unreliable at times, but he is always there when she really needs him. And she’s sure she didn’t imagine that there is something between them, something more than just sexual tension. Lucifer said it the first day they met—they have a connection. She wouldn’t have been caught dead admitting it at the time, but she felt it, too; it’s part of the reason she only halfheartedly protested about him becoming her partner.

Faintly, she wonders if this means their partnership is over. She really hopes not, but that’s up to him now.

Halfway to the elevator, he catches her wrist. His grip is loose enough that she could easily pull away if she wanted to, but tight enough to bring her to a halt. Taking a deep breath, she turns around and her breath catches in her chest. They haven’t been this close since before she was poisoned, unless one counts fainting in his arms. But it’s the look in his eyes that really catches her attention. It looks like his heart has been ripped from his chest and stomped to dust.

“Please, don’t go,” he murmurs, releasing her wrist. “Not like this.”

She bites her lip. “What do you want me to say, Lucifer?”

Lucifer starts to reach out like he’s going to take her hand, but lowers his arm. “I’m telling you the truth, Detective,” he whispers pleadingly.

“Just like you’re the Devil?” she counters softly.

She doesn’t want to fight with him; she’s far too tired for that. But she also doesn’t want to do this with him. For a year, she has listened to him spout these stories about being the Devil and everything that goes with that. There was a very brief time when she almost believed him—enough to shoot him, only for the supposedly invulnerable, immortal Devil to bleed. But it’s gone too far now.

His shoulders droop. “Yes,” he breathes. The mask he wears for the public, that he wore just a few minutes ago, is long gone. He looks agonized and miserable. Part of her wants to wrap her arms around his middle and hold him, but she knows better. “I am.”

“I’m sorry, Lucifer. But I’m never going to believe that. You’re too...good to be the Devil.”

He scoffs brokenly, bright eyes lifting to the ceiling as he shakes his head. “What will it take for you to believe me, Detective? To know that I have never once lied to you?” he pleads.

Chloe doesn’t know how to answer that. It isn’t that she thinks he’s lying. She believes he’s telling a version of the truth—his truth, as he sees it—but it’s all been shaped by his past trauma, and (she strongly suspects) neglect and abuse. “Lucifer...”

Something flashes in his eyes, too quickly for her to identify, but then, it’s replaced by determination again. “I can prove it to you, Detective,” he says quietly, his eyes darting back and forth between both of hers. “That I am who I say I am, and that I’ve not lied to you. I would never lie to you.”

What kind of proof could he possibly have after all this time? Didn’t he once say that he couldn’t prove it to her, in fact? “Lucifer, no. You don’t have to—”

“I may as well,” he says coolly. “Up until now, I have hesitated because I don’t wish for you to fear me—and I still don’t—but I also won’t have you believing I am a liar.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think you're a liar, Lucifer,” she says quickly. “I know that you don’t lie.”

“You just think me delusional, then?” he says knowingly, giving her a challenging look. She sighs. “I’ll show you, and you can make up your own mind.” His determined expression falters slightly. “Do keep in mind, though,” he adds softly, “that I would never hurt you, Detective. Or your offspring. I have only ever wanted to protect you, and for you to be happy.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Lucifer, I know you’d never hurt me.”

He relaxes slightly, but he’s still radiating tension and anxiety. “Good,” he sighs in relief. “Right...” He backs up several feet. When Chloe starts to follow, he holds up a hand as though to ward her off. “Stay there, Detective. I suspect you will want the space between us momentarily.” Taking another deep breath, he straightens his posture. “If—when you desire to leave, Detective, I will not follow,” he vows seriously. “In fact, it is still my intention to leave Los Angeles altogether, so you needn’t fear that I will—” Again, he falters, closing his eyes for a moment, looking pained. “For what it’s worth, Chloe, I have valued our partnership. And our friendship. I wish...” He trails off, not finishing the sentence. “Never mind that.”

Her heart is racing. “Lucifer. Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?” she asks, her voice trembling.

Lucifer gives her a sad smile in response. “I don’t want to melt your mind completely, as I rather highly value it, but I can show you enough that there will be no doubt in your mind that I am, as I’ve always said, the Devil.”

Part of her wants to tell him to stop. That whatever this is, he doesn’t need to do it. He doesn’t need to prove anything to her. Another part of her wants to know. Chloe has always been inquisitive, it’s one of the reasons she became a detective; and she has always sought answers to mysteries. There has never been a bigger mystery than Lucifer Morningstar. At one point, she was even going to test his blood, but then, his brother talked her out of it.

The story Amenadiel gave her was bullshit, she knows that much. She’s a cop, for crying out loud, she knows what blood packs and bulletproof vests look like. And she knows that whatever happened to Lucifer that night with Malcolm Graham...it was real. He did get shot, she’s certain of it. But she could never explain how he got back up two minutes later like nothing ever happened.

“I thought he killed you...”

“Oh, he did. I got better.”

In the end, she tossed the blood slide in the trash; Lucifer is her partner and her friend. She may not know all his secrets, but she knows enough to know what kind of person he is. It’s more than him being useful on cases; she likes having him around. He’s funny, kind and generous—when he wants to be—and he believes in her in ways nobody ever has. Lucifer has her back, and that’s all she needed to know.

It should be enough for her now. When she was in the hospital, she told herself that if she and Lucifer do start something as more than partners/friends, then at some point, they would have to talk about the Devil thing, but it didn’t need to be immediate. They could work up to that; he deserves the chance to open up at his pace.

So...if he wants to give her proof, one way or another...she should let him. Right? It isn’t as if he’s really the Devil. She doesn’t know what to expect from this, but she does know that much. At least...she thinks she does.

“Are you ready, Detective?” Lucifer asks softly. There’s a flicker of fear in his eyes, though what he could have to be afraid of, she doesn’t know.

Slowly, Chloe nods. “I’m ready.”

Lucifer takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, like he’s steeling himself. Then, looking more nervous than she thought him capable to be, he finally gives her proof.

Chapter Text

On the very first case that Chloe ever worked with Lucifer Morningstar, Jimmy Barnes shot her in the shoulder. As she lay bleeding on that recording studio floor, she was sure that was the end for her. Then, suddenly, Lucifer was leaning over her, looking worried.

“Chloe...”

“I don’t want to die.”

“I won’t let you. Your father will just have to wait for you.”

And even though she’d only just met him—even though she thought he was nothing more than a delusional, nightclub-owning playboy, she trusted him, even if she didn’t understand why. If he said he wasn’t going to let her die, then she wouldn’t. Then she heard the report of Jimmy’s gun again. And again. Six rounds in total, and she was sure they hit Lucifer in the back.

He stood up and went to deal with their killer. Chloe was passing out from blood loss by then, her vision blurry, but there was a brief moment when she opened her eyes and saw something in the reflection of the glass. A face that didn’t belong to Jimmy or Lucifer—red and deeply scarred; it looked like something straight out of a horror movie. Like somebody had burned to death, except they miraculously survived.

Then, she passed out.

A few weeks after that, during the Players’ case, she saw something else. Well, two somethings. The first were the scars on Lucifer’s back. As long as her forearm, crescent-shaped, ragged and rough. And painful looking. A dozen scenarios of how those scars came to be crossed her mind in seconds.

“Oh, my God...”

“Yes, I suppose it was his fault.”

“Whose fault?”

“My father’s.”

“Your dad did that to you?”

“Well, no, Maze did. I told her to.”

Wing scars he told her. And the weird thing was, the way the scars were so perfectly symmetrical and high on his back near his shoulder blades... If humans had wings, that’s where she’d imagine they would be.

Her hand reached out to touch them before she knew what she was doing. Lucifer spun around with inhuman speed and gripped her wrist tightly to stop her. The profound, ancient-looking pain and fear and despair in his eyes made her heart ache for this man she barely knew. It was the first time she saw something real in him. Something that made her think that he was more than what he pretended to be.

“Don’t. Please.”

Later, in the car, while they were waiting for the kidnapper, she was telling him about how she doesn’t believe in God and the Devil, Heaven and Hell.

“Does it scare you?”

“No. I mean, how could I be scared of something I don’t believe in?”

“Do I scare you?”

He was the one who looked scared in that moment, like it would break his heart if she answered yes. And while she thought he was weird and annoying, and repulsive on a chemical level, she shook her head and said no. There was genuine relief in his eyes.

Lucifer went in after Carver Cruz and the kidnapper on his own, locking Chloe out and forcing her to find another way inside the factory. By the time she caught up to him, one shot had already been fired. Lindsay Jolson, the girl they thought had been kidnapped, was on the floor, crying. Lucifer was looming over her dangerously.

“Oh, God. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“Please, don’t hurt me...”

“Why does everyone say that before they’re punished?” His voice was low and dark, and it sent a shiver down Chloe’s spine.

“Lucifer. Don’t move.” She had her gun at the ready as she approached. And that’s when she saw something in the machinery. Just a flicker of what looked like red eyes.

“Who are you?”

Lucifer slowly turned towards her.

“What are you?”

He cocked his head curiously. “I’ve been trying to tell you, I’m the Devil.”

“That’s not possible.”

“I assure you, Detective, it is. I mean, you’ve said yourself there are things you can’t explain. Need more proof? Come on, shoot me.”

“I can’t shoot you.”

“Sure, you can. Go on, give her a squeeze, we’ll be good to go.”

“No.”

“Just shoot me, Detective. Please! Because maybe you’ll finally realize—”

She shot him. And he bled. And she felt like an idiot for being goaded into believing his delusions. Meanwhile, he was on the ground looking up at her as if he’d never seen his own blood, not once in his whole life. He was confused and scared.

“What’s happening to me?”

A year later, she’s standing in Lucifer’s penthouse as he once again offers her proof that he is, indeed, the real, actual Devil.

At first, nothing happens. They’re just looking at one another, his dark mahogany eyes that are normally so expressive have the shutters drawn down around them to hide the anxiety and fear she saw flickers of before. Then, he blinks. And when his eyes open—

Chloe gasps. His eyes aren’t mahogany anymore; they’re red with flickers of what looks like fire in them. Her heart stops momentarily as she stares, her own eyes wide as they dart between both of his, trying to figure out whether it’s a trick or an illusion.

Because it could be, right? Lucifer Morningstar is insanely wealthy—he’d have to be to have a penthouse on Sunset Boulevard, let alone to lease the entire building where Lux is located. She had a glance at his records, not wanting to get too into his business, and she saw that he owns several other properties in southern California, as well. So, the red fire eyes could be...expensive, digital contacts...?

Is that even a thing?

She really wants to embrace that theory, because the only other one her brain can come up with is: It’s all true. Everything he’s ever said about being the Devil himself; about the bastard father, who’s actually God; that Heaven and Hell are real; that angels and demons exist.

Which would make Amenadiel an angel, right? If he’s Lucifer’s brother? And Maze calls herself a demon and once told Chloe that she “was forged in the bowels of Hell”.

If it’s true, it means that her roommate, her daughter’s best friend and babysitter, is a literal demon. Although...if she’s being completely honest, that...kind of makes sense, actually.

Forcing herself to focus on what’s right in front of her, though...Lucifer. He’s the Devil. Isn’t he?

“Yes, Detective. I am,” he confirms softly.

Her heart restarts and skips a beat, then stutters into a gallop. It’s beating so frantically and loudly that she’s sure he can hear it, too. “It’s all true,” she breathes.

His whole body seems to slump, as though the words she’s speaking are literally weighing him down. “Yes,” he replies in the same tone.

All the breath in her lungs is forced out at once. She’s shaking as she studies the man—the Devil—before her. He looks exactly like her goofy, irreverent, annoying partner.

The man (Devil) who, just a week or so ago, she kissed, then a day later, hugged in relief, because she was sure she’d lost him to poison gas.

The man (Devil) who has saved her life more than once, including just a couple days ago by retrieving what they believed was an impossible-to-retrieve antidote formula.

The man (Devil) who has been in her home, spent time with her and her kid, whom she made her dad’s egg sandwiches for. (“I think he’d be proud of you.”)

The man (Devil) she was sure she was falling for.

“I need to sit down,” she says weakly.

With a blink of an eye (or two), the red fire eyes are gone and her Lucifer is back. He’s at her side in an instant, though he hesitates to reach for her. “This way, Detective,” he murmurs, lightly guiding her towards the piano stool. Faintly, she notices it’s covered in a white sheet, as well. Because he was intending to take off for Las Vegas.

Chloe rests her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands, and thinks. Well, she wanted proof; he gave her proof. Now, the question is, what does she do with it?

Primal instinct is telling her to run far and run fast! To get Trixie and flee to the other side of the world.

But her gut instinct... That’s a different story altogether. Her brain says run; her gut says there’s nothing to be afraid of; her heart says stay with him.

Two-to-one, staying it is.

A recent memory of dancing with Lucifer to The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go? plays in her mind. She had so much fun with him that night, during the illegal sit-in to save Lux. The next day, she called in a favor of her own to get paperwork pushed through to name Lux a heritage site so that it can’t be torn down by developers.

“Detective, you saved my home...”

She’ll never forget the astonishment and gratitude in his eyes when she showed him what she did. There was something deeper there, too, something that tugged on her heart that she couldn’t quite identify, but was close to...longing, perhaps? Reverence? ...something more?

They were supposed to have dinner that night, and as much as she told herself that it unequivocally was not a date, she dressed for one. Only for him to not show up.

Pushing that from her mind, she forces herself to look up at Lucifer (Devil). He’s crouching a couple feet away from her, like he doesn’t want to get too close to her, watching her with concern.

“How?” she breathes.

Lucifer (Devil) swallows hard. “You said it yourself, Detective,” he says in a low voice. There’s an edge to his tone and it takes a moment to identify it as fear. She almost laughs. What could the Devil have to be scared of? It isn’t the first time she’s wondered.

She shakes her head. “No. I need to hear it from you.”

She doesn’t really know why she needs to hear it from him; after all, he tells her a dozen times a day. It’s different now, though; now, she has proof.

Twisting the ring on his middle finger, Lucifer (the Devil) studies her intently for a moment, hunching his shoulders like he’s trying to make himself smaller. Less threatening.

“Detective,” he murmurs. “I am the Devil.”

Chloe wraps her arms around herself, unsure if it’s for protection or because she’s cold. Both, perhaps? What is she even still doing here? She should be running, shouldn’t she? Halfway home and locking the doors behind her. Except, she recalls, Lucifer has some kind of ability to get through locked doors.

“I don’t...” She isn’t sure what she’s trying to say. There’s too much running through her mind, too quickly to latch onto any one thought.

“Are you okay, Detective?” Lucifer (Devil) asks, concerned.

Is she? She honestly has no idea.

But you’re still here... a voice in the back of her mind tells her. That, on its own, should tell her a lot, shouldn’t it?

“I...think so...?” she says uncertainly.

Lucifer’s eyebrows furrow as he looks at her. There seems to be some sort of conflict in his eyes, like he can’t decide how he feels about her being okay with him being the Devil. Which makes no sense to Chloe. She can’t imagine many people stay after learning the truth about him. Shouldn’t he be relieved, at the very least? Happy, even?

“Impossible,” he mutters under her breath.

Chloe frowns. “What’s impossible?”

He shoots to his feet, stalking towards his bar for another drink. Still, he doesn’t offer her one. She wonders if it’s because he expects her to leave and doesn’t want her to have alcohol in her system while driving. “Nobody is...okay after...” He drinks his whiskey in one swallow.

“Um, I’m sorry? Did you want me to run away screaming?”

A strangled sound leaves his throat. “No, of course not, Detective,” he concedes impatiently. “But that is how humans react to the truth. No one has ever...”

Ever...what? Stayed, after they learn who he is? Her heart aches at the thought. If he’s really the Devil, then he’s...really old, and there’s never been one person who wasn’t afraid of him? It explains a lot, too, like why he’s so accustomed to one-night stands. And why he’s so secretive and mysterious. Why he’s so clueless about basic, human emotions.

Well, Chloe isn’t afraid of him. The rest of it—God, Heaven, Hell, et cetera—that is a different story entirely, but she’s compartmentalizing right now. She can have an existential crisis later.

“Do you want me to leave?” The question falls from her lips without permission, but it feels valid; maybe he’s having as difficult a time processing this as she is. She doesn’t want to go, though; there’s still the whole Lucifer running off to Vegas thing to deal with...

His expression softens. “No, Detective. I don’t,” he says honestly. “But I won’t force you to stay.”

“Well, I don’t want to go yet.”

Lucifer frowns at her in bemusement and pours another drink. Then he reaches for a clean glass, finally pouring one for her, as well. “In that case...” He holds the glass out to her.

On slightly shaky legs, Chloe stands and walks over to the bar, taking the glass and letting her fingers brush his intentionally. A jolt of electricity shoots up her arm; by the widening of his eyes, she guesses he felt it, too. “Thanks,” she says softly.

He nods tightly once, still watching her closely. They drink in silence for a moment, Chloe is enjoying the smooth burn of the liquor in her throat; it dislodges that lump that’s been there since she arrived to see sheets over his furniture. Then she remembers the reason he gave her for why he’s leaving: She, Chloe Jane Decker, is a Miracle of God.

The glass drops to the marble bar top, a few drops of whiskey splashing out. She half-expects him to complain about how much money those drops cost; he doesn’t. He just looks at her in question and concern. “You said...I’m a...Miracle?” she whispers incredulously.

Anger flickers through his eyes, though she doesn’t think it’s aimed at her. “So it would seem, Detective,” he sighs wearily. “I only found out right before we realized you were poisoned.”

She remembers him bursting into her room looking furious.

“Did you know? Huh? All this time, did you know?”

“Lucifer. Something’s wrong. It won’t stop.”

The fury transitioned to horror when he realized what she was saying.

“Oh,” she murmurs. What else can she say about it? “And you think I was...put in your path?” She can hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth.

He scoffs. “It’s the only explanation that makes sense, Detective. Dad, you see,” he means God, “is all-knowing. He would have known I would leave Hell when I did and that I would end up in Los Angeles. My...mojo, as you call it, doesn’t work on you, remember? The only person in all of human history. And you make me vulnerable.”

Okay, that’s the second time he’s mentioned that. “What does that mean, I make you vulnerable?” she asks warily.

She remembers the philanthropist case, after she’d come here to the penthouse drunk because Dan dumped her via text and she threw herself at Lucifer. And he’d turned her down. He teased her relentlessly about it, but he’d taken care of her that night. Kept her from doing something he knew she would regret. When the case was over, Lucifer dropped by for some reason, and she told him that he makes her feel vulnerable—and maybe that’s okay.

“Detective, if it’s any consolation to your pride, it appears you make me vulnerable, too.”

She thought he meant emotionally vulnerable, the same way she had meant it. Was she wrong?

“It means, that for reasons I did not understand until now, I can only get hurt when you are nearby,” he explains gently.

She feels cold again. So...all those times that Lucifer got hurt... “It was my fault?”’ she whispers.

He frowns. “Detective?”

“Malcolm shot you,” she says, feeling like she’s being strangled. “And you nearly died...”

The shutters fall in front of his eyes. He doesn’t say a word.

“Did you get better because you’re the...you?”

Averting his gaze, he twists his cufflinks. She can almost see his mind whirring, searching for a deflection or a half-truth that will satisfy her. “You got hurt because of me,” she whispers, feeling her eyes burn. Shaking her head, she starts to back away. His frown deepens. “I’m sorry. I didn’t... I’m sorry. I-I’ll go...”

He reaches for her hand before she can move. “Detective, wait,” he says urgently, his brow furrowed. “I don’t want you to go.”

“But...” She lets out a strangled sigh. “Lucifer, you get hurt because of me.”

“And it’s something I came to terms with long ago,” he says simply. “I won’t stop you if you truly wish to leave, but don’t leave over this.”

“But you could die!”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “And that is a risk that I willingly take, Detective,” he says softly.

“I don’t understand. Why? Why would you risk that?”

He shrugs, releasing her hand, confident she isn’t going to bolt. “You humans seem to manage it well enough,” he says dismissively.

It’s not the whole truth. She can hear it in his voice. “No. The real reason, Lucifer,” she insists firmly. “Why would you stay near me? What could possibly be worth the risk of dying?”

Lucifer seems to deflate. “Well. You said it yourself. To be near you, Detective,” he says softly. “You’re worth the risk.” He gives her the first genuine smile she’s seen since she stepped off of the elevator, small as it is. “As I said, I came to terms with this months ago, and when it was suggested that I leave...I didn’t want to.”

Her jaw drops. What does she even say to that? “Oh...”

“Yes. Oh.” He reaches over and taps her chin shut with two fingers.

“What really happened with Malcolm?”

He eyes her warily. “Perhaps we ought to sit down, Detective...”

Well, that can’t be good...

Lucifer leads her over to the couch where she sits down on the white dust cover and expects him to sit beside her. He doesn’t; instead, he takes the armchair that had been facing the balcony doors, turning it towards her. The only piece of furniture that isn’t covered. For a moment, he sips his drink, getting his thoughts in order, she thinks.

“Malcolm did kill me,” he confesses so quietly she nearly misses it.

“What?” she breathes in horror. He nods, confirming she heard what she thinks she heard. “But then, how did you...?”

“Come back?” He sighs. “I made a deal. With my father.”

That one takes a minute to process. Lucifer, the Devil, made a deal with his father, God, to whom he hasn’t spoken for...who knows how long?

He shifts in his chair as though he’s uncomfortable. “I told Him that I would do as He desired. Be the son He wanted me to be...”

“If He brought you back,” Chloe surmises.

Lucifer shakes his head, meeting her gaze. “If He protected you.” Again, her jaw drops. “I was done for, or so I thought. And I knew that I was leaving you and your spawn unprotected with a psychopath hunting you. I was only there because I wanted to keep you safe and I wasn’t about to allow dying to get in the way of that. So, I asked Dad to protect you. Then I took my last breath. A couple minutes later, I came to and took care of old Malkie.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that, either. There’s something he’s leaving out, but she can’t focus on that at the moment. Thank you seems insufficient. Before she has a chance to think about it or second-guess herself, she closes the distance between them and hugs him. As he always does with affectionate touch, Lucifer stiffens, not knowing how to respond. A moment later, she feels one of his arms tentatively wrap around her shoulders.

“Thank you, Lucifer,” she whispers tearfully into his shoulder. “You saved me and my daughter. Thank you.”

He clears his throat awkwardly, but rests his head against hers. “You’re quite welcome, Detective.”

Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, Chloe backs away, sitting at the edge of the couch closest to him, wiping her eyes. “And I’m sorry, that you get hurt when I’m nearby,” she says lamely.

A half-smile appears on his lips, not quite a smirk. “It certainly isn’t your fault, darling. Please, think nothing of it,” he says quietly.

Chloe feels like she should argue more about that. That he should be more concerned about his own personal safety. She doesn’t understand how any of this works yet, but she does remember him telling her that he’s immortal and invulnerable—

“Jimmy Barnes.”

Lucifer scowls. “What about him?” he says coldly.

Chloe stares at him. “Lucifer, you got shot after I did—at least six times, maybe more. But you were fine. Not a scratch on you.”

The scowl turns into a thoughtful frown as he recalls the incident, then confusion. “You’re right, Detective,” he says. “I’d forgotten all about that.” He cocks his head, staring at her, like he thinks something about her will hold the answers. His eyebrows furrow. “My vulnerability didn’t kick in until you shot me.”

Chloe winces. “Um. Yeah. Sorry about that. Again.”

He chuckles. “Don’t be, darling. I literally asked for it.”

“This does explain why you were so confused to see your own blood, though.”

“Hmm. Yes. Man-made weapons had never harmed me up to that point.”

On one level, it’s a relief, because he genuinely believed he wouldn’t get hurt if she shot him. And he wasn’t just some delusional weirdo who wanted to get shot to prove a point. Well. He wasn’t delusional. Weirdo is still on the table. This is Lucifer, after all.

“But you got shot and didn’t get hurt with Jimmy, so you weren’t vulnerable then,” she points out. “So...maybe that doesn’t have to do with this Miracle thing?”

Lucifer frowns, studying her for a moment, then shakes his head. “Perhaps...it took time for it to come into effect,” he says stubbornly. “I don’t know how else to explain it, Detective; only my father could do something like this. It’s never happened before meeting you...”

She sighs, deciding to come back to that. It isn’t like she knows enough about...any of this to form a decent argument against him, anyway. “I have so many questions,” she admits with a small, hesitant smile.

Again, his head cocks to the side, confused. She always thought he looks a bit like a puppy when he does that. “You...really aren’t afraid?” he asks softly.

She hesitates. “To be completely honest, I’m kind of terrified right now.” His expression falls and he looks devastated for a couple of seconds before he manages to hide it behind his mask. “I mean, God and Heaven and Hell. Maze is a demon?” Jaw tight, he nods once, not looking at her. “I mean, I don’t know what to do with that, Lucifer. My daughter’s babysitter and best friend is a literal demon from Hell who is single-handedly costing me the deposit on my apartment. I never believed in...any of this before twenty minutes ago and I don’t know what to do with it all. Not to mention the Miracle of God, put in your path thing...”

She gentles her tone, placing a hand on his knee. He startles at the touch, then stares at her hand with an inscrutable expression. “But you?” She shakes her head. “No, Lucifer, I’m not afraid of you. You’re my partner, and my best friend, and you’ve had my back since day one. You’ve saved my life several times now. And you’re a good man.”

“I’m the Devil,” he argues, though it feels like an automatic response.

Chloe shrugs. “You’re still good. I don’t know what it means for you to be the Devil, but I have a feeling it doesn’t mean what everyone else thinks it means. Didn’t you tell me once that you’re not evil; that you punish evil?”

Surprise flits through his eyes. “You remember that?”

“I’m smarter than I look,” she jokes.

“You must be the smartest human on the planet, then,” he murmurs with a soft smile.

Her eyes widen and her heart does a funny flip in her chest. For the nth time, she doesn’t know what to say to that. Scanning the penthouse for inspiration, her heart sinks again; everywhere she looks, something is covered by white sheets. She lands on his luggage at the foot of his bedroom stairs.

“Are you really going to leave?” she asks quietly, turning back to him.

He pauses, his glass pausing halfway to his lips. Darting his eyes briefly to her, he looks away again with a sigh. “I have to, Detective,” he says in a strangled tone.

“Why?”

“Because my father is manipulating your feelings,” he snaps. “None of what you feel for me is real. You’re far too accepting of me being the Devil. It can’t be real.”

Her anger returns. “That is bullshit, Lucifer. Everyone has free will! Or should that be ‘everyone but Chloe Decker’ has free will?” she challenges him.

His mouth opens and closes a few times, unable to form words.

“How did you find out about this, anyway? Did Amenadiel tell you?”

“My mother, actually.”

Chloe blinks. He has a mother? God has a wife? “Your...mother?”

“Indeed,” he answers with an irritated sigh. “It’s a long story, Detective. The gist of it is, Mum, the Goddess of All Creation, was imprisoned in Hell, but She escaped at the same moment the real Charlotte Richards died in that hotel room and assumed her body. Since then, She’s been trying to get back to the Silver City—Heaven, rather—to reunite with Her children and start a war with my father. And She wants Amenadiel and me to go with Her, despite how many times I’ve told Her that this is my home now and I won’t return to Heaven.

“She assumed that you are the reason I desire to stay, so she’s been searching for ways to turn you against me or vice versa. She even tried to blow up your car once—”

“I’m sorry, what?” She’s trying to wrap her head around Charlotte Richards is Lucifer’s mom and the Goddess of All Creation. No wonder he was so freaked out anytime she suggested he’d slept with Charlotte...

Lucifer waves her off as though having a Goddess try to kill her is no big deal. “Amenadiel stopped Her,” he says dismissively. “Her latest scheme was telling me that you’re a Miracle. She thought breaking my heart would be sufficient enough to get me on side, but all it’s done is piss me off even more.”

He’s heartbroken? Because she’s a Miracle?

“She admitted to manipulating both myself and you, and is using this...situation to stoke the fires of my anger towards my father in the hopes that I’ll go to war with Her against Him.”

“But...you’re not?” Chloe checks cautiously.

He shakes his head, looking tired. “No, Detective. I’ve no interest in going up against all of Heaven.” He rolls his eyes at himself. “Again,” he adds in a mutter. “That is the other reason I am leaving: I need to...put some distance between myself and my family until I can work out what to do about them.”

Chloe gives him a sympathetic smile. The situations are way different, but she can understand needing to get away from an overbearing, controlling mother. “I’m sorry you’re hurting,” she says softly.

Lucifer’s lips part in surprise at her words. “Yes, well...” He averts his gaze. “It is what it is, I suppose.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to leave.”

He looks pained. “Detective...”

“Look, I...sort of...get why you want to get away from me,” she says, even though she can feel her own heart breaking at her words. She goes on when he takes a breath to speak. “And I get why you want to get away from your family, but... Isn’t there something you can do that doesn’t involve leaving L.A.?”

He’s quiet for a minute, staring into his empty glass as though it has all the answers. “I don’t want to get away from you, Detective,” he argues softly. “In fact, it’s the last thing I want. I’m doing this to protect you from being a pawn in my father’s game. You don’t deserve to be caught in the middle of this mess.”

“Well, apparently, I’m a Miracle, so I guess that means I’m already caught in the middle, whether you leave or not.”

“But if I leave, then you’ll have the freedom to—” His jaw tenses as he cuts himself off, looking away.

“To what, Lucifer?”

Sighing, he turns back, forcing himself to finish his sentence. “To choose somebody better.”

Chloe’s heart twists at his resigned, bitter, sad words. For a moment, she thinks about her feelings for Lucifer, trying to figure out whether they feel forced or manipulated.

When they met, she couldn’t stand him. He was attractive, of course; she has eyes. But then he opened his mouth and suddenly...less attractive. In fact, she told him when they first met Linda that she found him repulsive on a chemical level. It took time for any of that to change.

It took her getting to know him better, the real him. Not the version of himself he presents to the world—the sharp-tongued, flirty, nightclub owner who’s practically sex on legs. But instead, the funny, caring, sweet man who notices things about her no one else does and tells her that her father would be proud of her. Who told her she was smart and had notable instincts, and to trust herself about five minutes after meeting her.

If she was created to have feelings for him, then wouldn’t she have had them from the beginning? And come on, why would his father put someone like her in his path if that were His intention? A mid-thirties divorced detective with a kid for the man who can’t stand kids? (Then again, he does seem to have a bit of a soft spot for her kid, even if he has no idea how to interact with her.) She and Lucifer are about as opposite as it gets: his idea of a good time is getting drunk and having sex with anything that walks; hers is reading a book to her daughter, then having a glass or two of wine, if she’s feeling frisky, and watching trash TV in her pajamas.

It doesn’t fit.

“I think you’re wrong, Lucifer.”

His head snaps up from where he’s been staring at his ring, his brow furrowing. “Wrong about what, Detective?” he asks curiously.

She leans forward, elbows on her knees. “I don’t think my feelings are being manipulated.”

His shoulders slump. “Yes, well, if they are, I’d imagine Dad would have made it so that you wouldn’t think so,” he says bitterly.

Chloe shakes her head. “I couldn’t stand you when we first met. It took weeks for me to even accept you as my partner, months before I considered you a friend. If my feelings were being manipulated, then wouldn’t I have jumped into bed with you the moment we met?”

His eyebrows furrow again. “I...hadn’t thought of it that way,” he says slowly, looking at her as if seeing her for the first time. “It doesn’t change the fact that you were placed here to intentionally cross paths with me.”

She shrugs. “I’m not sorry we met. Are you?” She’s pretty sure she knows the answer, but she needs to hear it from him.

Eyes softening, he shakes his head. “No. I can’t say that I am,” he murmurs.

Pursing her lips in thought, Chloe studies him. “How does your mojo work?”

If the question or subject jump surprises him, he doesn’t show it. “You’ve seen it, Detective, I ask people what they desire and they tell me.”

“But is it like...they’re being compelled—”

“No,” he says sharply, then softens his tone, looking apologetic, “No, Detective, they are not being compelled. It’s...” He sighs. “I’ve never had to explain it, but it’s sort of like they look at me and see their greatest desire at the moment reflected back at them. Or they see me as a way of gaining their greatest desire.”

That’s...kind of sad. Does nobody just see Lucifer as Lucifer? The person behind the desire? Chloe thinks about how he deals in favors. Everything is a deal for him. If somebody does something nice for him, no matter how small, he’s asking them what it is they want in return. And when he’s told nothing, he’s confused, like he doesn’t understand the concept. Because, clearly, he doesn’t.

Everyone except you. His mojo doesn’t work on you. Meaning, you don’t see your greatest desire when you look at him; you just see him.

Oh.

Oh...

“Detective?” Lucifer looks at her curiously. “I know that face. You’ve just figured something out.”

Has she ever...

“Okay, I know I’m new to this, but... What if the whole Miracle thing isn’t that my feelings were manipulated or whatever, but that I’m the only person who sees the real you rather than their greatest desire, because your mojo doesn’t work on me?”

She tries not to get her hopes up that this will get through to him. And she’s definitely not getting her hopes up that he’ll realize that her feelings for him are real so they can get back to talking about them becoming more. Nope. Not at all.

It doesn’t occur to her that she hasn’t thought of him as the Devil for several minutes. Because it doesn’t matter to her.

Lucifer actually thinks about what she’s said, rather than coming back with an immediate counterargument. Then she can see him trying to come up with counterarguments—and failing. When he looks at her again, she can see the expression in his eyes is tinged with hope...the same hope she saw when he asked, “This is real, isn’t it?”

“Oh,” he breathes in realization.

“Lucifer. I know how I feel about you,” she says softly and with not a little hesitance. “And I know why I feel that way about you. I can’t explain why your father put me here,” and she really can’t believe she’s even having this conversation, “but I don’t think it’s a manipulation.”

Lucifer’s eyes dart down to her lips. He swallows. “Detective, I...” He sighs, not knowing what to say. She can see his struggle; he wants to believe her. “But what if it isn’t real?” he whispers painfully.

Tentatively, Chloe reaches for his hand and he stares at their joined hands like he’s never heard of the concept of holding hands. Let alone somebody holding his hand. She leans towards him. “What if it is?”

For the first time since she arrived, light seems to return to his eyes and he comes to life again as he leans towards her, too. “I want it to be...”

She smiles. “So do I.”

Gaze moving between her eyes and lips, Lucifer slowly moves closer until their mouths are a hairsbreadth from each other. “Are you sure, Detective?” he breathes.

Chloe can smell the whiskey he’s drunk and something that just smells like Lucifer, and she wants to taste it, too. She nods. “I’m sure,” she whispers.

He stifles some sound in the back of his throat, then he’s leaning in and their lips brush. She feels her smile widen in anticipation.

Chapter Text

Their first kiss on the beach a week ago—though it feels much longer ago than that—was tentative, soft, and sweet. This kiss is the same. Their eyes are open, Lucifer’s watchful and hesitant, as though he fears she’ll pull away at any time. It takes her a moment to realize why he would fear that, until she remembers what she saw not so long ago: his red eyes, proving he’s been telling her the truth all along. He’s the Devil. And while that should be reason enough for her to pull away, she has no intention of doing so; she has no fear of him. And she wants this.

When their lips brush, warmth rushes throughout her entire body, forcing away the cold she’s felt for days, leaving only her and Lucifer. Her fingers find the side of his face—his cheek, then his stubble—and she presses her lips harder to his, instinctively knowing that he’s leaving how far this goes up to her. He does, however, let out a little involuntary groan and his eyes flutter closed; then, one of his hands cradles her face with a tenderness she wouldn’t have believed him capable of just a couple weeks ago.

Chloe always thought that if she and Lucifer ever gave into...whatever is between them...it would be fiery and full of passion. This, though... This is better. This isn’t about lust or desire; it’s about two people who care about one another finally admitting they want more. What that elusive ‘more’ may be...well. She doesn’t know just yet. All she knows is that she wants it. Wants him.

Her tongue darts out, teasing his bottom lip, asking for entrance that he grants immediately. And then their tongues tangle, just as hesitantly, but with skill from him that leaves her hungry for more. He tastes like the whiskey he’s drunk and faintly like smoke, and it isn’t nearly as off-putting as she thought it might be; in fact, she kisses him harder, deeper. Her fingers leave his face, traveling to the back of his head to play with the little hairs on his neck. She smiles when he shivers, just a little.

Finally, Lucifer takes control, though he’s still tentative, like he thinks that at any moment she’s going to come to her senses and tear away from him. Little does he know, her senses up and vanished the night she stood next to a nightclub piano and said, “Lucifer Morningstar. Is that, uh, a stage name or something?” and haven’t been seen since. At least, not when it comes to him; she finds, right now, that she doesn’t really mind so much.

Sitting literally at the edge of his seat, his hands are at the small of her back and cradling the back of her head, holding her close, and he’s making little sounds in the back of his throat like he’s desperate for more. She knows the feeling. How long has she imagined this? Them, together? It was early on, she knows that much. The night he offered himself up to her on a silver platter— “The berries are ripe and ready to be harvested...” She can’t deny that she looked a bit longer than she probably should have, especially since, technically, she was still married at the time.

That’s when the dreams started, the ones she wouldn’t admit to with a gun to her head. Of course, she wondered what this would be like; the man is sex personified and flirts like others breathe. And he can be so damn smooth and charming when he wants to be. It’s one of the reasons she’s always so annoyed with him; he got under her skin a while ago and he’s refused to leave since. Then he found his way to her heart. Now, she doesn’t want him to go. All those little moments they’ve shared over the last year building up to this one.

Yeah, Chloe is definitely falling for him.

Lucifer gradually brings their kiss to a close, resting his forehead against hers, which somehow feels more intimate than what they just shared. Or maybe more meaningful. His eyes are closed, needing a moment to get his thoughts in order or to get himself under control.

Chloe gives herself the chance to study him up close. The way his long lashes flutter against his cheeks. The faint smattering of freckles she somehow never noticed. How his lips are perfectly shaped and kiss-swollen—from kissing her. Her heart expands at the thought. He’s beautiful. And not for the reasons others might call him that. Although he can be a complete, clueless idiot sometimes, he has a huge heart hidden behind that fortress of defenses he’s built around it. He was even going to leave her, breaking his own heart in the process, just to protect her.

It occurs to her suddenly he never explicitly stated that he isn’t going to leave; just that he doesn’t want to.

She forgets about that momentarily when his eyes open and they shine like the stars themselves. Dark brown with the faintest flecks of gold. He looks as though he’s just been granted his heart’s desire—the one he never thought he would, or could, have. And his smile... It makes her heart ache in the best way possible.

“Well...” he breathes, a little puff of air against her lips.

“Yeah,” she responds in the same tone. Anything louder would burst their bubble and...she really likes this bubble.

Lucifer backs away from her, just enough to be able to look at her face. He seems to be searching for something and there’s a faint edge of nervous hope as he does. But when he doesn’t find whatever he’s looking for, happiness blooms in his eyes. “Detective...”

“You’re not still leaving, are you?” She blurts the question without thinking about it.

He stills, happiness shifting to uncertainty. “I don’t...” He sighs, backing away completely and rubbing his hands across his face, then through his hair.

“We can find a way to deal with your family,” she says, again without thinking. Whatever it takes to get him to stay. Preferably with her. “And I know the truth now, so... My feelings are my own,” she reiterates, because she knows him, and she knows that is the driving force behind his desire to leave. It didn’t magically vanish after their talk and kiss. “And...” She hesitates now, not wanting him to spook. And Lucifer Morningstar, despite being incredibly brave in the face of danger, spooks easily when it comes to anything emotional. Honestly, she isn’t much better.

They’ve both been protecting themselves for the last year—Chloe with annoyance and denial; Lucifer with flirting and hiding, and well...also denial. But maybe he needs to hear that somebody wants him around for more than one night. Maybe he needs to know that somebody really, actually cares about him, rather than what he can do for them.

“And, what?” Lucifer asks softly when she doesn’t continue.

Chloe stares down at her fingers as she speaks. “I like you,” she admits, feeling like she’s in middle school again, standing in front of the boy she’s been crushing on. Which...accurate. “As more than a friend or a partner. And...I want to see where that might take us. Together. I mean, if that’s what you want, too, of course.”

When she chances a glance at him, he’s staring at her with awe and wonder, like he’s never seen anything like her before in his life. Which is, apparently, much longer than she thought a couple hours ago. He nods faintly, almost shyly. “I do want that,” he whispers. It sounds like he’s afraid to say it any louder, lest the universe hear and take it away from him. “I think I’ve wanted that for some time now.”

Happiness and that warmth she now associates with Lucifer flood her heart. “Really?”

The smile he gives her can’t be described as anything other than shy. Boyish, even. “Yes.”

“So...you’ll stay? See where this path takes us?” His father put them here; now, it’s up to them to decide where it leads, to make it their own.

There is the barest frown in his brow. He’s still working through everything. “You do remember what you saw, Detective? You believe me now?”

“That you’re the Devil?” She nods. “Yes, I believe you. And, you know, sorry for spending so long in denial.”

Lucifer chuckles. “Don’t be, Detective. You’re a woman of logic and reason; of course you would need proof. Why do you think I was so eager for you to test my blood?” His amusement fades. “Still, you’ve not heard everything, Detective. You may yet change your mind.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

“But I’ve done things, Detective,” he murmurs, his voice and expression full of pain. And guilt. “Terrible things.”

“And you don’t have to tell me about any of it, if you don’t want to,” she says kindly. “I’m more than willing to listen, to be here for you, but you don’t have to tie yourself into knots about it.”

He gives her a leering smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. “You can tie me into knots any day, Detective,” he purrs, though it sounds halfhearted, at best.

Chloe rolls her eyes. That’s more like the Lucifer she knows. “You know what I mean.”

His expression softens and he nods. “Thank you.” Though she doesn’t know what he’s thanking her for; for caring, maybe? He looks around the penthouse for a moment, thinking, processing. When he meets her gaze again, he studies her intently, like he’s trying to see inside her soul. She wonders if that’s something he can do. Then, he seems to finally reach a decision. “Yes. Very well, Detective, you’ve convinced me. I won’t leave.”

Relief floods her. “No?”

“To be honest, I’ve been putting off the moment I’d have to leave for days,” he admits. “Originally, I intended to leave shortly after leaving your hospital room, but...” He shakes his head hopelessly. “I just...couldn’t.”

Chloe reaches for his hand. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

He smiles shyly again. “As am I.” He frowns suddenly. “Detective, my apologies. I never asked: How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she answers. “Still kind of sore, but my insides don’t feel like they’re boiling anymore, so that’s a big improvement.”

He winces, looking away.

Chloe leans towards him. “Hey. I’m okay, Lucifer. Thanks to you.”

“I told you, Detective, it was a team effort.”

She gives him a wry look. “Somehow, I think it was more you doing the heavy lifting. Will you tell me? How you managed to get that formula?”

Without warning, Lucifer jumps to his feet. “Can I get you a drink, Detective?” He doesn’t wait for a response before heading for the bar to pour her one.

Well, that can’t be good, she thinks, giving him a few seconds, then following him. “Lucifer?”

“Really, Detective, it was nothing,” he says dismissively. Which in Lucifer-speak, means it was something dangerous and insane, and she probably doesn’t want to know. Or he doesn’t want to tell her.

“That formula wasn’t written down anywhere,” she says quietly. He startles slightly, clearly not expecting her to be standing right behind him. “None of them were. Dan said you two were able to get the ingredients list from Dave Maddox, but that he said the professor bragged about how the formulas only live in his head.” Her mind is whirling, trying to put it together, but there are too many missing pieces. “Carlisle is dead, so... How?”

The memory from when she woke in her hospital bed to find Lucifer beside her comes back to the forefront of her mind.

“Well, look who’s back. You didn’t die, after all. That makes one of us.”

Abruptly, the cold is back. “Lucifer,” she whispers with dawning horror, though she can’t identify exactly what that horror is. “How did you get that formula?”

She and Dan theorized when they briefly spoke about it that Lucifer got it through shady, illegal contacts. Or beat the shit out of somebody to get it. But that was back when she believed Lucifer was human. She knows better now, even if she doesn’t understand the intricacies of it. Or any of it, really.

Lucifer sighs, dropping the pretense of pouring them drinks and turning around to face her. Again, he isn’t meeting her gaze. His hands curl around the counter at his back, his knuckles turning white. “Does it matter, Detective? You’re alive; that is what’s most important.”

She nods. “It matters. To me, it matters, Lucifer. Tell me. Please.”

Closing his eyes briefly, he concedes. “Very well,” he sighs. “Our nutty professor killed himself and put the formula to the antidote firmly out of our reach. I truly didn’t believe there was anything to be done. Until I was reminded that he sent himself to Hell. A plan was formed to get me there, as I don’t have wings to take myself and neither does Amenadiel—long story,” he adds at Chloe’s questioning look. He hesitates again. “The only other way for me to get there was...as a soul.”

Chloe holds up a hand to stop him. “As a...soul...?” she repeats, that cold feeling she had returning. “You died.” Her voice is barely a whisper; she can’t seem to get enough oxygen in her lungs to speak any louder than that.

Lucifer nods in confirmation. “I did. Amenadiel stood guard in your hospital room to ensure you weren’t moved during the duration of this...endeavor. We didn’t know what would happen if I died and became invulnerable again, and it wasn’t a risk worth taking—if I couldn’t get back, you would die. Mazikeen, Dr. Linda, and I were in the room directly below yours. The plan was for Maze to stop my heart with the defibrillators and Linda would bring me back after a minute. With the way time works in Hell, it would be more than enough time for me to run my errand. But Maze chickened out at the last second and they started arguing about who should kill me. Time was of the essence, so I took the paddles and did it myself. I then had a chat with Professor Carlisle, who quite willingly gave me the formula required to save your life, and then...” Something shivers across his expression, too quick to make out, but he locks it away, “Dr. Linda brought me back,” he finishes hurriedly.

There’s a lot to unpack there, but something towards the end catches her attention. “Why do I get the feeling it wasn’t that simple?” she asks quietly, studying him.

He closes his eyes against what looks like grief and guilt. “It doesn’t matter,” he says firmly. “I did what I set out to do—I retrieved the formula, and you are alive and recovering. That is all that truly matters.”

Chloe is stubborn, though. “What happened, Lucifer?”

The strangled sound he makes in the back of his throat is pure reluctance. And maybe some frustration that she won’t let it go. “Guilt is what takes a human soul to Hell, Detective,” he says so quietly she can hardly hear him. “Real, true, soul-deep guilt. And those souls each have rooms of a sort. It appears that the same rules apply for celestials, as well, and when I went to Hell, I was unable to resist the door meant for me, behind which was the source of my guilt. I was trapped. And in all of the history of humanity, a soul has never overcome their guilt to allow them to leave. I forgot everything but what brought me to that room.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Until Mum showed up when Dr. Linda was unable to revive me in a timely manner. She reminded me why I was there in the first place—to save you. And I remembered the reason that I...did what I did that made me feel guilty. I walked out my door, Dr. Linda brought me back, and then I rushed back to your room with the formula to relay to Daniel.”

The detective in her wants to push, to ask him what it was he felt so guilty about that he doesn’t want to tell her. But there’s a pleading glint in his eyes, begging her to leave it, so she does. Instead, she focuses on the rest of what she just learned.

The Devil committed suicide and went to Hell with guilt deep enough that he was another damned soul, and was nearly trapped in a room with that guilt...to save her life.

“What were you thinking?” she asks, her voice trembling with emotion and anger. “You killed yourself, Lucifer! What if you had gotten trapped down there? What do you think that would have done to me?”

It would have broken her, knowing she was the reason he was dead and trapped. Except, she wouldn’t have known the truth, because he wouldn’t have been around to tell it to her. All she would have known was that he was gone forever.

“What was I thinking?” he echoes incredulously. “Detective, I was thinking that it was the only way to save you. If I had gotten trapped, it wouldn’t have mattered; you would have died, too! And I couldn’t allow that. Your death would have hurt too many people, namely your daughter.”

“It wasn’t worth the risk, Lucifer!”

“It was to me!” he shouts. “Detective, there was nothing—is nothing—I wouldn’t do to protect you. Because I am selfish, and if you die, you’ll go to the one place in the universe I cannot follow, and—” Grief flickers in his eyes. “I would do anything to prolong the time that I do have with you.”

Chloe shakes her head, unable to understand why the Devil would care so much about a simple, normal human to the point that he would risk his own immortal life for them. Miracle or not, she’s nothing special. While she’s grateful that he saved her, that he prevented her daughter growing up without a mother, it doesn’t make sense to her.

“Why?” she whispers unintentionally. But now that the question is out of her mouth, she needs to know. “Why would you risk so much for me?”

He stares at her, his eyes bright with emotion she can’t quite decipher; that he probably doesn’t understand himself. “Because, Detective,” he says softly, “you mean everything to me. And I don’t want to lose you.”

Any residual anger vanishes in an instant as she looks at him in amazement. “I do?”

He nods slightly and gives her a smile she’s only ever seen him give her. Chloe tries to think of some way to respond, but the only thing that comes to mind is closing the distance between them and kissing him again. Lucifer stiffens briefly in surprise, then melts into it, wrapping his arms around her lower back while hers curl around his neck to bring them even closer.

Three words are on the tip of her tongue; words that should startle her, but really, they aren’t that much of a surprise. She swallows them, though, because everything is so tentative with him right now and she only just talked him out of running off to Vegas; she doesn’t want to risk scaring him off with too much, too soon.

So, she finds a different three words. “Thank you, Lucifer,” she murmurs against his lips.

His eyes, when they flutter open, are a little dazed. He swallows, hard. “You’re most welcome, Detective,” he says in a low voice.

She kisses him again—this time, just because she wants to. It’s slow and sweet, communicating how much he has come to mean to her. He must get the message loud and clear; he moans into her mouth, one hand cupping the back of her head and deepening the kiss. Lucifer walks her backwards just far enough that she’s pressed against the bar top...and he’s pressed against her. Slow and sweet turns to heated and passionate—the kind of kiss she expected from Lucifer initially. His lips leave hers, traveling along her jawline towards her ear.

“Are you sure about this, Detective?” he asks, his voice uncertain.

Chloe cups his face, pulling him back so she can meet his gaze. This isn’t what she came here for; she just intended for them to talk...and well, she supposes they did. Quite a bit. “I’m sure,” she murmurs, her thumb stroking the skin below his eye. She bites her lip. “Are you?”

He searches her eyes again. “Not even a little,” he admits with a lopsided grin. She laughs softly. “I am sure that I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you. But you’ve only just learned the truth about me, Detective, and I don’t want for you to do anything you will regret in the morning.”

She shakes her head. “I could never regret you, Lucifer.” She’s had her reasons for avoiding this for the last year; for keeping their relationship platonic. They’ve both admitted to wanting more, to seeing where that takes them. There are still things for them to discuss, but right now? They don’t seem all that important. “I want you, too.”

His eyes light up, but there’s still uncertainty there. Nevertheless, this time, Lucifer initiates the kiss and it nearly steals her breath away. Chloe always thought he would be a good kisser—he’s had enough practice—but this is...

She whimpers into his mouth, her fingers sliding into his hair as she tries to get closer to him. One of his hands starts exploring with gentle touches—her back, her ass, her side—until he finds the hem of her shirt and slips beneath it. She expects him to move higher, but he just rests his fingers on the skin of her hip. The touch sends tingles of warmth through her body and she wants to feel it elsewhere. Everywhere.

He leaves her lips again, finding her neck instead and trails open-mouthed kisses along the slope, his teeth scraping lightly at her pulse point. She gasps and feels his smirk against her skin. Though she wants to admonish him for it, it feels more important that she gets his suit jacket off of him instead. In response, he slips her jacket off her shoulders, then slides his hands down her sides to the backs of her thighs and effortlessly lifts her onto the bar top. Her legs spread so that he can step into the V of them and he tugs her to the edge—the perfect height for him to press his hips to hers, allowing her to feel what kissing her is doing to him.

“Lucifer,” she moans.

He groans. “I’ve wanted to hear you say my name like that for ages, Detective,” he breathes against her collarbone.

“Chloe,” she whispers. “Call me Chloe.”

He pauses for a moment, lifting his head from where he was working a mark into her skin. “Chloe...” he says, his voice quiet and reverential. It sounds like a prayer and sends a shiver through her body. Then he’s back at her mouth, kissing her fervently. “Wanted this...wanted you...for so long...” he murmurs.

She nods. “Me, too...”

He cups her face with both hands, holding her like she’s precious. “Shall we take this elsewhere, Chloe?” he asks, husky and seductive. Still, he’s giving her an out; if she says no, he’ll stop immediately. That’s one of the reasons she’s always trusted Lucifer: He’ll proposition her all day long, but he’s never crossed the line into making her feel uncomfortable.

Annoyed? Yes. Discomfited? Never.

She nods, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. Looking like he can’t believe this is happening, he lifts her into his arms and kisses her again, walking them blindly towards his bedroom.

They make it as far as the wall.

Lucifer’s tongue is doing things she didn’t know were possible, his hands moving along her body like he’s memorizing her, and his hips are thrusting lightly against the apex of her thighs. Her fingers are clumsily unbuttoning his shirt. For a second, she considers ripping it off, like in that dream she had not so long ago to save time, but she gets distracted when she feels him pushing her own shirt up her body, his fingers warming her skin everywhere they go. She lifts her arms above her head to assist him and he looks her in the eyes as he removes the garment, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder.

They’ve both seen each other naked, but the time he saw her was an accident—she dropped her towel when she found him in her kitchen making breakfast. And of course, he’s seen her boobs in that stupid movie. But this is different; this is intentional. And she intends for him to do much more than just look now. Even though she’s still wearing a bra and jeans, Lucifer looks at her like he’s never seen anything more beautiful—which she knows isn’t the case; she’s seen some of the women (and men) he’s been with...

It’s still quite flattering. Especially when he meets her eyes again and whispers, “Exquisite,” in an awed tone.

She grabs the lapels of his shirt and pulls him back in for another kiss, hands sliding down his firm chest and feeling the way his muscles ripple beneath her touch.

Screw the buttons...

Her hands find the edges of his shirt and tug as hard as she can, causing a few of those buttons to ping across the penthouse somewhere.

Just like he did in her dream, Lucifer laughs in absolute delight. “Detective!” he crows, looking smug. “Eager, are we?”

“Shut up,” she murmurs, crashing her lips against his, though she can’t really deny that she is, definitely, eager.

Her hands map his broad shoulders, then his chest, fingers brushing his nipples and pulling a sharp inhale from him. He grinds harder against her, his fingers sliding into her hair while his other hand starts its own exploration of her body. For now, to her surprise, he avoids her breasts apart from brushing past them on his way elsewhere. Wrapping one arm around her back, he pushes off the wall and continues up the short staircase into his bedroom where he allows her to slide down his body.

They pause, then, holding each other close as they gather their bearings. And if she didn’t know any better, she would say that Lucifer Morningstar is nervous about sex. Then she notices just the slightest tremble in his hand.

She rests both of hers on his chest, right above his pounding heart. “You okay?” she whispers.

“Yes, of course,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss her neck again.

Chloe stops him, cupping his face and lifting it so she can search his eyes. It’s faint, but there’s a slight tinge of nervousness, and knowing how skilled he is about masking his emotions, if even that much is escaping, what’s he actually feeling?

“Hey, we don’t have to do this, you know,” she says gently.

He swallows, shaking his head. “I want to,” he murmurs firmly.

“But...?” she says leadingly.

Lucifer sighs, pressing his forehead against hers again. “I’ve...never done this,” he confesses softly.

Chloe narrows her eyes in bewilderment. “If you’re going to try telling me you’ve never had sex, I’ll know you’re lying,” she deadpans, making him laugh.

“No, I meant...” He looks around for a moment, trying to find a way to explain. “I’ve never done this with anybody...who knows.”

“Oh.” Her eyebrows furrow.

Is he really saying that in what she suspects is his very long life, he’s never been with anybody who knows he’s the Devil? That’s...incredibly sad. He’s had to hide his true self for fear of losing anybody he cares for. And yes, he tells everybody who he is, but he knows they don’t believe him, so at best, they think the way she did—that he’s delusional or hiding behind metaphors. Or at worst, he’s a liar.

“Indeed,” he says tightly. “Nor have I been with anybody I can’t read or who makes me vulnerable.”

Something in her settles, and she only now realizes how nervous she was about the differences in their levels of experience. He’s been with...who knows how many people, while she’s had a grand total of six lovers. This, though...it feels like it puts them on a more equal level in some way. He’s still way more experienced and has probably done literally everything when it comes to sex, but now he seems more...human.

She gives him a teasing smile. “I’ll be gentle...”

Lucifer stares at her for a moment, clearly having not expected her to make light of the situation, then he throws his head back and laughs. A genuine belly laugh she’s rarely heard. Chloe’s grin widens; he has a great laugh. When he sobers, he looks at her with wonder and awe, his own eyes glinting with mischief. “I certainly hope not, darling,” he purrs, then momentarily turns serious. “But you will have to tell me what you desire; I can’t simply ask.”

There’s only one thing she desires right now... “You,” she murmurs. “I only desire you, Lucifer.”

He looks as though he’s never heard of such a thing, or surprised that she doesn’t want something more...involved, like singing honey pots, but he’s also incredibly touched by the sentiment. “And I, you, Chloe,” he murmurs. Then he kisses her again, deep and meaningfully, conveying all the things he can’t vocalize.

Gently, he pushes her to lay back on his bed, lips finding her neck again and kissing downwards to her collarbone. He goes left to her shoulder and presses a tender kiss to the pale, round scar there—the souvenir from their first case. She brushes her fingers along his cheek and he gives her a small smile before continuing his descent. His lips find the swell of her breast and lick the edge of the top of her bra. Suddenly, she wishes she’d worn something sexier instead of one of her more basic sets of underwear—but at least she matches, for once.

It doesn’t seem to matter to Lucifer what she’s wearing. His eyes dart up to meet her gaze as his lips surround her nipple, sucking through the cotton material. Chloe gasps and arches up, one of her hands cradling him to her breast, the other gripping his shoulder. He smirks around her as he suckles, his free hand—the one not on her back, goes to her other breast. The cotton barrier may as well not be there at all for all his fingers are concerned. His thumb and forefinger easily locate her nipple and match what his mouth is doing to her.

Chloe’s head falls back to the mattress and she starts squirming beneath his ministrations. Every suck, every pinch going straight between her thighs. If he continues, this is going to be embarrassingly quick...

He doesn’t continue. After a minute or so of working her up, he kisses lower, every inch of skin he can reach with his mouth and tongue until he’s licking a stripe above the waistband of her jeans, his tongue dipping into her bellybutton. She looks down at him when she feels his fingers fiddling with but not unbuttoning her jeans.

His dark eyes are locked on her with a silent question.

She nods.

There is a flash of relief in his eyes that he covers quickly with a smirk, then flicks open the button and lowers the zipper slowly. In an attempt to speed things along, Chloe manages to kick off her shoes. Lucifer’s chest hitches with a suppressed laugh. She playfully smacks his shoulder. Then he’s lowering her jeans, kissing his way down her thigh.

He stands and pulls her jeans off with an exaggerated flourish that makes her laugh. He grins, tugging off her socks, then kisses his way back up her other leg, his hand sliding up the other one just as slowly.

Chloe is really glad she took a shower before coming over here. And that she shaved... Because now she’s only wearing her bra and panties in Lucifer Morningstar’s bed, and he’s looking at her like she’s his dream come true. It’s a bit surreal, honestly. But at least he seems to like what he’s seeing.

To distract herself from her own self-consciousness, she reaches for him, fingers sliding down his chest and abdomen to his trousers. “You next,” she whispers.

He leans over her again, kissing her neck. “Oh, I will,” he murmurs into her skin, “but not yet...” Lucifer’s hands slip to her back, finding the clasp to her bra, and with one hand, he flicks it open, grinning proudly at her.

She rolls her eyes, fighting her twitching lips. “Show off...”

He hums as he slips the straps of her bra off her arms, then tosses the whole thing to the side carelessly. “You haven’t seen anything yet, darling.” She believes him. His eyes rove to her chest again and he stares. “Lovely...”

“You’ve seen them before, Lucifer,” she mutters, feeling her cheeks heat.

“Indeed, but I’ve never been able to do this...”

Chloe gasps when his lips wrap around her nipple without anything between them. The heat of his mouth surrounding sensitive skin is amazing, then his tongue gets involved and she’s completely lost. Her fingers are in his hair again, holding him close so he doesn’t get any silly notions in his head—like moving away. He groans around his mouthful when her fingers tug and he pushes his head back into her hand, silently asking for more. She does it again and his eyes flash faintly red; she’s pretty sure it was involuntary. And she’s surprised at how much she likes it—the red eyes and making him lose control briefly. Wanting to see if she can make him do it again, both her hands go to his hair.

In retaliation, his hand travels down her body to between her legs, touching her where she most wants to be touched. Her head falls back and she groans, loudly. She would be embarrassed by it, but Lucifer seems to like it when she’s vocal; he rewards her by switching breasts and stroking her slit above her panties, though he avoids her clit. When she’s a moaning, writhing mess of sensations, he leaves her breasts, kissing downwards until he’s settled between her thighs.

Chloe can feel how wet she is, and Lucifer can clearly see it. He growls slightly, licking the edges of her panties, tasting her, then nipping her inner thigh, soothing it with his tongue. “May I?” he asks huskily.

She nods a bit frantically. Again, he masks his amazement with a smirk, pulling off her underwear. But instead of tossing them aside, he brings her panties to his face and inhales deeply, groaning, before tucking them into his pocket. Chloe would roll her eyes if she wasn’t so stunned by the look of feral want in his eyes.

“I’ve dreamed about this,” he murmurs, settling himself between her thighs. His dark eyes, dart to hers, hesitating—asking for consent. Again, she nods, lips parted as she pants. The smile on his lips is soft rather than a smirk; he leans in, and drags his tongue from her entrance to her clit, tracing a circle around it.

She cries out. In the back of her mind, she’s expecting him to tease and take his time; but in reality, he doesn’t hesitate, licking over and over, every inch of her, still avoiding her clit. Then, finally, his lips find her and suck. She doesn’t know what sound she makes; all she knows is it’s never felt like this before. The men she’s been with have half-assed this, at best, licking a few times and assuming that’s enough.

Not Lucifer.

Lucifer has settled in like he plans to live between her thighs—and she thinks she’d be perfectly okay with that—trying out every trick he knows to find what she likes best. And when he does find something she likes, he repeats it. And the sounds he makes...like he is enjoying this as much as she is, more even.

One of her hands fists in the bedspread, the other in his hair. She doesn’t have to guide him to where she wants him most; he finds those places himself. And then he discovers that thing she likes.

“Fuck,” she gasps, eyes clenched shut. She tries to arch into his mouth, to get closer, but he throws an arm across her hips to hold her in place while he works. With his free hand, his fingers get in on the action, sliding through her wetness to her entrance and one slipping inside to the knuckle. He drags a fingertip along her upper inner wall inadvertently finding the spot that makes her see stars.

She can feel him smirking, but doesn’t call attention to it; as far as she’s concerned, he has every right to be smug right now. Particularly when a second finger slides in with the first and he starts steadily pumping his hand, curling his fingers in a come hither motion. All the while, he’s still got his mouth on her clit, his tongue drawing shapes she can’t make out, though she thinks it might be the alphabet.

M is especially enjoyable.

Chloe’s climax is approaching rapidly, and she can already sense this is going to be better than anything she’s ever felt before. Both of her hands are in his hair now and if he minds how she’s practically suffocating him with her thighs around his head, he doesn’t let on; in fact, she thinks he’s reveling in it. “Close,” she gasps, managing to get enough air in her lungs to get the word out.

He growls and doubles down, his hand pumping faster, his lips sucking harder. “Look at me, Chloe,” he murmurs, the vibration making her shudder.

Forcing her eyes open, she gasps again; he looks wrecked, his eyes so dark, they’re nearly black and full of desire and lust. And something else, something deeper that makes her heart soar. Whatever that something is, it’s enough to push her over the edge, screaming his name. She sees stars as her climax washes over her in waves and just—pardon the pun—keeps coming and coming.

Lucifer groans along with her, working her through it, prolonging the best orgasm she’s ever experienced. He even senses when it’s becoming too much and gentles his touch.

Faintly, she feels him kissing his way back up her body as she struggles to regain any regularity to her breathing. When she manages to open her eyes, she finds him at her side, his chin propped up on his fist as he looks down at her with a soft, tender expression she rarely sees from him.

“Welcome back,” he murmurs, smiling.

“Hi.”

He leans down and kisses her slowly, letting her taste herself on his lips and tongue. It isn’t something she usually enjoys, but when it’s mixed with Lucifer...

She cups his face with one hand, letting her fingers trail down his cheek through his still-wet stubble. Humming, then smiling against her lips, Lucifer pulls back a little. “Good?”

She rolls her eyes at his smirk, which is what she thinks he wanted. Her eyes trail down his body and she remembers he’s still wearing pants. Despite just having an orgasm, she wants more. She wants everything. “You’re wearing too much,” she murmurs, pushing him by the shoulder and guiding him to his back. He goes more than willingly.

His eyes flash with delight when she straddles his hips, hands finding her waist. “Well, hello, Detective,” he purrs.

Smiling, she leans down to kiss him, her hair creating a curtain around them. It’s her turn to explore now, kissing down his neck. He jolts slightly when she sucks a bloom into his skin.

“Again,” he demands huskily.

It takes a moment for her to remember that he’s vulnerable around her—and only her. So he’s probably never felt anybody do this before. He’s never been marked during sex. Possessiveness rears up in her as she switches to the other side of his neck, sucking another mark into his skin. He groans loudly, fingers digging into her waist.

Mine, she thinks, looking between the twin marks for a moment.

Satisfied, she shifts lower, kissing the firm planes of his chest and abdomen, enjoying the way his muscles twitch and contract. She glances up to see him watching her with dark, wanton eyes. Smirking against his skin, her fingers find his belt and manage to deftly open it, tugging it out of his pants loops, then dropping it over the edge of the bed.

Just as he did for her, when her fingers toy with the button of his pants, she meets his gaze questioningly. He nods slowly, deliberately, mouth falling open in a silent gasp when she intentionally brushes her hand against his clothed cock. She does it again, stroking this time and his head falls back as if he can’t keep it up any longer.

Smiling to herself, she pops open the button and carefully pulls down the zipper. He’s stripped in public enough for her to know he has a tendency to go commando. Tugging down his pants, she bites her lip against a gasp when she sees him for the first time. Well, she’s seen him naked, but not hard—not like this. And it doesn’t take a tape measure to figure out he’s much larger than anyone she’s been with in the past. To the point that she’s wondering if he’ll even fit inside her.

Only one way to find out...

He’s already removed his shoes and socks, so once his pants are discarded, she kisses her way up his leg, her hand sliding up the other one—again, as he did with her. His eyes are locked on her, his chest rising and falling quicker the closer she gets to his cock.

Lucifer sucks in a loud, sharp breath when her hand wraps around him and starts stroking. She watches his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he struggles to keep his eyes open. His lips are parted to accommodate his breathing. He’s beautiful.

Her eyes rove him, taking in every inch of his tanned skin. She imagines herself kissing every freckle on his chest, her tongue tracing constellations across his skin. Then she focuses between his legs and licks her lips.

But before she can take him in her mouth, his hand is on her shoulder, stopping her. She looks up at him questioningly.

“Although I have also dreamt of your beautiful lips wrapped around me, I would like for us to make it to the main event,” he says. His tone is teasing; his eyes are wild and needy. “Later, I’m all yours to do with as you please, Detective.”

Unable to resist, she drops a kiss on his tip, making him suck in another sharp breath, then slides back up his body, kissing every inch she can reach. Maybe it should surprise her that she’s still this eager after an orgasm, but...well. It’s been a year of back and forth between her and Lucifer; of denial and secret longing. Of touching herself in the dead of night and biting back his name when she comes. And much longer since she’s been with anybody else.

She wants him, too.

When she reaches his mouth, there’s no soft and sweet. There’s just heat and passion. Lucifer’s hands are on the back of her head and her lower back, and he pulls her close then rolls them so she’s beneath him again. Planting his elbows on either side of her head, he presses their hips together. They gasp in unison. Lucifer rests his forehead against hers, fingers tracing her jawline as he looks into her eyes.

“Are you sure, Chloe?” he breathes.

Kissing him chastely, just in confirmation, she nods. “Yes. All of you, Lucifer,” she whispers, one of her hands on the back of his neck.

He closes his eyes briefly, but she saw the flash of emotion in them before he did. When he opens them again, she gasps softly at the look in them. She’s hesitant to label it, but her heart is beating faster than ever in response. Leaning back in, he kisses her again and she can taste the reverence and disbelief on his tongue.

She can hardly believe any of this herself. Two days ago, she was dying from poison. A couple hours ago, she walked into the penthouse and felt her heart breaking, thinking he’d left without telling her goodbye. Not long after that, she learned he’s been telling her the truth all this time—that he really is the Devil. Then, they talked more than they have in a year of partnership—really talked—and agreed to find out where their mutual desires take them.

Chloe deepens the kiss and he groans into her mouth, his hand trailing down her body again. Along the swell of her breast. Her side. Her waist and hips. To between her thighs. He sucks in yet another sharp breath when he finds her wet and wanting again.

Sinking his fingers inside her, stretching her for himself, he nips her bottom lip and tugs. One of her hands finds him in response, stroking until he drops his head to her shoulder, gasping.

“Chloe...”

After whispers of pill and clean, she guides him to her entrance and he lifts his head to look at her, his eyes completely black and wild now. Slowly, he enters her and they both let out shuddering breaths. He’s so careful, so watchful, and the joy that explodes in his eyes makes her heart swell. He pauses several times to check in with her, making sure she’s okay, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on her temple or his hand brushing through her hair.

“You feel incredible,” he murmurs when their hips are flush. “Better than anything...” She doesn’t think he meant to say that last part out loud, but it makes her smile.

“So do you,” she whispers, tilting her head back to kiss him. Lifting her legs, she wraps them around his waist and gasps at the change of angle. He groans into her mouth.

He waits for her to adjust to him; at her nod, he starts to move, and she’s completely gone. She can easily imagine him ruining all other men for her. Which just means she has to find a way to hold onto this one. At the thought, one of her arms wraps around his shoulder, the other at his back. Her fingers spread wide...

...and she freezes when she brushes against one of his scars.

Lucifer makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, his hips thrusting sharply.

“Sorry,” she whispers quickly. She starts to move her hand away, but he shakes his head, looking down at her in wonder.

“Do it again,” he breathes uncertainly.

She blinks up at him. “Are you sure?” She can still clearly remember the look in his eyes the first time she tried to touch his scars.

He hesitates a moment, then nods. “Please...” It’s barely audible and a word that he rarely uses; she can’t deny him.

Cautiously, not taking her eyes off his face, Chloe slides her hand up his back, tracing just the far edge of one of his crescent-shaped scars. The effect is immediate: He gasps, then bites his lip, his chest heaving. There’s none of the pain or grief in his eyes from before; just awe and wonder.

He furrows his brow. “More,” he begs.

She slides her palm over the roughened skin, remembering what he told her they were from: His wing scars. Lucifer had wings. She thinks back to that religious auction and the wings she and Lucifer were tracking down—those huge, white, gorgeous wings.

Is that what his really looked like?

A blink, and she can see them actually on his back, spread wide while he stands tall and proud. They complete him somehow—or make him...more.

Another blink, and she’s back looking at her Lucifer, perfect the way he is, and his eyes are bright and glistening with emotion.

Finally, it becomes too much for him and she immediately removes her hand, placing it instead on his lower back. He kisses her wildly, all teeth and tongue, little noises falling from his mouth—almost whimpers. Before she can ask if he’s okay, though, Lucifer starts moving again, his thrusts steady and smooth, snapping against her hips.

Chloe holds him tighter against her, kissing the side of his face, then his neck as she counters each thrust. She’s never felt this...connected with another person. Sex was good, but this is something entirely different; a whole new plane of existence, only for her and Lucifer. And judging by the look in his eyes, the sounds falling from his lips, he feels exactly what she does.

He slides an arm beneath her, adjusting the angle of his thrusts, and hitting that spot inside her every time. She cries out, fingernails digging in his shoulder. Lucifer hisses and she starts to apologize, but he shakes his head. “Mark me all you like, darling,” he murmurs into her ear. So she does it again, and his sharp thrust in response shifts them higher up the bed.

“Lucifer!”

He groans, adjusting his pace again. She can feel his muscles quivering beneath his skin, as though he’s barely holding himself off. He curses into her shoulder when she clenches around him. “Chloe...”

She’s always loved the way he says her name—he uses it so rarely—but right now, in this moment, the amount of emotion and love that he puts into those two syllables... Knowing him, he doesn’t even realize that’s what he’s projecting or feeling, but she does feel it, and she has to bite her lip hard to keep from saying it out loud.

She loves him. She thinks, maybe, she has for a while—months, at least. And she can feel his love for her.

Her climax, unlike the first one, crashes into her all at once, rather than those rolling waves. She cries out his name, her entire body clenching around him, clenching him to her. And she can feel his reverent gaze on her, as well as the moment he lets go with a shout of his own, then buries his face in the side of her neck and moans her name.

Chloe already knows that whatever she and Lucifer share is beyond comparison, and she also knows that if it doesn’t work out, she won’t be the same again. She suspects, though, that if they can work through their issues, they’ll have something unbelievably beautiful. And she wants it.

Now to find out if she can have it.

Chapter Text

It’s with confusion that Chloe awakens the next morning. There is way too much sunlight pouring through her bedroom curtains and her bed doesn’t feel right. The mattress is way too soft and comfortable, lacking the distinct lumps that make her back ache; and the sheets, rather than being cottony with a low thread count and smelling like Downy fabric softener, are cool silk and have a masculine scent. Not to mention the scent in sex lingering in the air. Then she realizes she isn’t alone in bed. In fact, she has her head pillowed on a warm shoulder and her arm is curled around someone's narrow waist—

Memories of the night before flood into her mind. Coming to Lux to check on Lucifer, only to find white sheets covering the furniture and luggage near the bedroom. Seeing Lucifer, who obviously hadn’t expected her to be there, hoping to be long gone to Las Vegas before she even found out he was leaving, walk down the stairs looking heartbroken. Him telling her the reason he was leaving being that she’s a Miracle put in his path by his father. Then getting frustrated when she didn’t believe him and proving to her that he’s been telling the truth all along—he’s the actual Devil, red eyes that burn with fire, and all. Her realizing that doesn’t mean what the world thinks it means; trusting her gut and him. They talked—really talked, for the first time in their partnership, and worked through the Miracle thing. They kissed and decided to see where their mutual feelings of longing and desire for more lead them. And then...

Images of what they did last night, four times, replay in her mind. Her body aches in the best way, all residual soreness from the poison coursing through her veins is gone; replaced by soreness for...other reasons. Then, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, though Lucifer was a bit...awkward with the concept of cuddling. All in all, it was the best night of her life.

Not because of the sex (though that was...phenomenal and she can’t wait to do it again—and again), but because it was her and Lucifer, on the same page. There’s still so much to talk about and work through, but she feels hopeful that they will now. And she talked Lucifer into staying—he even removed the dust covers from the furniture. Which inspired round two—on the piano. Chloe’s face heats slightly at the memory of his head between her thighs as he sat on the piano bench...and she sat above him, her feet pressing into the keys and filling the penthouse with cacophonous notes. Those, along with the sounds coming from Chloe and Lucifer themselves, was some of the most beautiful music she’s had the pleasure of hearing. Pun fully intended.

Opening her eyes, and instantly regretting it when the sunlight through the windows blinds her, she tilts her head up to look at Lucifer instead. He’s still fast asleep, his lips, still a little swollen from last night, are parted slightly, and the only word she can think to describe him is adorable, which she knows he would hate. (“The Devil isn’t adorable, Detective. Roguishly charming, loin-stirringly sexy, yes, but not adorable. Honestly.”) The dark curls on his head are messy and sticking up in all directions, mostly from her running her fingers through them, twisting the strands and pulling to his immense enjoyment. His expression is...peaceful. As if, in his sleep, the weight of the world isn’t resting on his shoulders. And while she would never apply the word innocent to Lucifer Morningstar, he does look younger, somehow. Softer. Sweeter. The mask he wears for the public doesn’t exist right now, leaving him vulnerable. And she feels...privileged that he is allowing her to see him like this. It’s ridiculous, suspecting how many people he’s had in this bed before her, but she can’t imagine him allowing them to see him in this way.

After round two on the piano, they took a shower together to clean up. Unsurprisingly, it led to round three, with Chloe pressed against the tiles of the shower wall and Lucifer at her back, hands at her hips as he moved inside her and his face buried in her neck, their cries of pleasure echoed in the shower enclosure. Afterwards, he sweetly wrapped her in a huge, warm, fluffy bath towel (because, of course he has a towel warmer in his bathroom) before drying himself, then gave her one of his white dress shirts to wear. Giggling like teenagers and holding hands, they climbed back into bed where Chloe immediately curled against his side. He hesitated a moment, uncertain what to do, then tentatively wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her close, lips pressed into her damp hair, like he never wanted to let her go again.

They talked some more. Not about anything important, just like they would in the car on the way to a case or on a stakeout—teasing each other, discussing whatever came to mind. It settled something in Chloe she didn’t realize had been out of place, and she could see in his eyes it was doing the same for him. When he leaned over to kiss her again...well. Round four, which was slow and tender. Lucifer held her gaze the entire time, their foreheads pressed together as they held each other as tightly as two people could. They fell asleep right after that and it was the best sleep she’s had in weeks.

Lucifer’s breathing abruptly changes and she watches with a warm smile as his eyebrows furrow in the same confusion Chloe felt when she woke up. His eyelids flutter open slowly and he looks down at her, confusion changing to relief, then to wonder and happiness. It’s rare that she’s seen him genuinely happy about something; he always has a childlike excitement about things, manic energy about others, but for the most part, whatever true joy he has seems fleeting. So to know merely seeing her cuddled up against him makes him happy...Chloe doesn’t know how much bigger her heart can get before it bursts with her own happiness.

“Well,” he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep. It sends a shiver down her spine and warmth between her legs. “Good morning, Detective.”

Chloe curls an arm on his chest and rests her chin in the V of her elbow, memorizing every inch of his handsome face. “Hi.”

The arm behind his head that he was using as a pillow moves and he brushes the backs of his fingers lightly down her cheek, like he’s testing to see if she’s real. Light flares in his eyes when he feels that she is. He swallows. Unnamed emotion flits briefly through his eyes that he hides quickly. “Sleep well?”

“I did, actually,” she says with a nod. The last few nights in the hospital had been difficult; hospitals are not conducive to a good night’s rest. Not to mention her mind wouldn’t shut off, inevitably shifting back to Lucifer and why he wasn’t answering her messages. “Did you?” Unable to keep from touching him, too, her free hand traces the contours of his face—eyebrows, patrician nose, sharp jawline, full, pillowy lips.

The smile from her touch turns to a thoughtful frown. She traces that, too. “I did,” he confirms, sounding surprised, pushing his head further into her hand—a reflexive gesture that makes Chloe smile. Then a glint of mischief flashes in his eyes. “Even through your raucous snoring.”

Her smile turned to a scowl and she scoffs, pinching him playfully in the side. “I was not snoring!” She hopes.

Glee lights up his expression at being given the opportunity to tease her. “You most certainly were,” he crows. “I thought the building was about to collapse.”

Rolling her eyes, and fighting a blush, Chloe gives him a (mostly) playful glare. “You’re so full of it.”

He purrs, then moves quicker than her mind can process so he’s hovering over her. “I’d rather you be full of me,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss her.

She wants to protest (because...morning breath), but he distracts her, his lips moving slowly, gently against hers. One of her hands slides into his hair—she figured out quickly that he’s a big fan of this—and lightly scratches her nails against his scalp. He groans softly into her mouth and she immediately takes advantage of the opening to deepen the kiss, his already hard length pressing into her thigh. She feels his hand find the hem of her (his) shirt and start to push it up her thigh—

—when her phone rings.

Lucifer growls in annoyance or frustration—or both—and drops his head to her shoulder. “Not that bloody thing again,” he groans, then turns to suck on her neck. “Ignore it...”

She would absolutely love to, especially with how he’s nibbling on her pulse point, but... “I can’t. It might be Trixie.” Lifting his head, he gives her the most adorable pout that makes her smile and kiss him chastely. He tries to follow; she shakes her head. “Sorry.”

Grumbling, he shifts off of her, graciously allowing her to roll over to where she plugged her phone in last night—and pulls her bra from the globe table lamp, tossing it to the floor. She laughs when he wraps himself around her from behind, unwilling to let her go too far from him. He really is adorable. A-dork-able? She inwardly smirks at the word.

“It had better be important. If somebody isn’t dead...” he threatens.

Rolling her eyes, she glances at the caller ID. Dan. Lucifer scoffs derisively when he sees her ex’s name on the display. “Hush, you. Give me a minute.” She grudgingly answers. “Hey, Dan, what’s up? Is Trixie okay?”

“Hey, Chlo. Yeah. Yeah, she’s fine. I, uh, just wanted to call and, you know, check up on you.”

Lucifer scoffs again, apparently hearing Dan on the other end, then, determining the call isn’t, in fact, life or death, begins peppering her skin with kisses. It’s...delightfully distracting...

Chloe bites her lip and swallows a moan. “Um, yeah, I’m good. I got some sleep, so...”

“Good. Yeah. Um...” Dan’s uncomfortable tone. Chloe’s irritation flares slightly; she’d much rather give in to whatever Lucifer is doing to her neck than talk to her ex about...whatever he’s calling about. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Chloe. For a while there, we thought...”

It feels like a bucket of cold water is dumped on her. Even Lucifer pauses in distracting her, the arm he has wrapped around her middle tightening, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t hold on, she’ll disappear. She’s pretty sure he’s even stopped breathing.

“Yeah, I know, Dan. But everything is okay now,” she says, both to her ex and to Lucifer.

Dan scoffs lightly. “Yeah. Thanks to Lucifer.” And there’s only a tiny bit of resentment in his tone. “I don’t know what he did, Chlo, but the guy looked wrecked after he got that formula. And it was hours later when I saw him.”

Chloe bites her lip; she knows exactly what Lucifer did and she still doesn’t know how to feel about it. He literally died for her. And it wasn’t the first time.

“Have you talked to him at all? Do you know what he did?”

“Um, yeah, we talked a little.”

“And did much more than that...” Lucifer murmurs under his breath as though he can’t help himself. Hopefully not loudly enough for Dan to hear; she isn’t ready for anyone to know about her and Lucifer just yet. Especially not her ex-husband. Not until she actually knows what it is they’re doing.

She digs her elbow into his ribs to shut him up. He nips her shoulder in retaliation, then soothes it with his tongue, unable to help himself. Then she lies to Dan; she can’t exactly tell him the truth, can she? “I don’t know exactly what he did, but does it matter?”

Dan sighs. “No. I guess not. As long as you’re okay.”

“I am. Promise. How’s Trix?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, she’s good. She somehow talked me into taking her to the zoo today, so that’s what we’re doing. She’s in the shower now.”

Chloe smiles, then has to bite back a gasp when a hand slides beneath her shirt between her legs. “Okay, well, you guys have fun,” she says, trying to keep her voice even. It’s difficult with Lucifer’s talented fingers playing her like his piano.

“You sure you’re okay, Chloe? You sound...strange.”

“Mm-hmm, yep. Totally fine. But, um, I’ve got something on the stove,” Lucifer snickers against her shoulder, “I should get back to what I was doing...”

“Yes, please,” he breathes into her skin, sucking a bloom into the back of her neck—at least she’ll be able to cover it with her hair...

“Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to you later, then, Chlo.”

“Okay, bye, Dan.” She hangs up and drops the phone before he can think of anything else to say.

“Finally,” Lucifer sighs, rolling her onto her back again. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss her deeply, his hand curled beneath her chin to hold her in place. “Now...where were we...”

Chloe wraps her arms around his neck and a leg around his hips, returning his kiss. “Right about here...”

An hour and a half later, they’re showered (again) and Chloe is sitting at the island of Lucifer’s huge kitchen—that she didn’t even know he had—and he’s at the stove cooking them breakfast. Omelets, she thinks. Her hands are wrapped around a cup of the best coffee she’s ever tasted, some fancy, imported brew directly from Colombia, apparently. Not that she’ll admit it’s the best she’s had, especially after Lucifer’s teasing about her usual latte order being ‘inferior’.

The view isn’t bad, either. She glances over her shoulder to the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows with a beautiful view of Los Angeles, and that’s nice and all, but then she turns back to the other view. Lucifer. Wearing just a pair of low hanging, red, silk pajama bottoms. Trim waist, surprisingly toned back, broad shoulders...his scars...

Chloe can’t help staring at them, remembering last night when he actually asked her to touch them. And his reaction. She didn’t ask him what he was feeling right then, but it didn’t seem as though he was in pain—rather the opposite, actually.

“Oh, I nearly forgot the bacon,” Lucifer says cheerfully, heading towards the fridge to retrieve it. “Nothing like a little meat to start your morning. Or a lot of meat, in my case.” He sends her a wink when she rolls her eyes, hiding a smile in her coffee cup—and the way she shifts around the ache between her legs. “Did you need more coffee, darling?”

She starts to say no, she’s good, but what comes out is, “You don’t mind it, do you?”

His eyebrows furrow in bemusement. “Getting you more coffee...?” he asks slowly, cocking his head to the side like a confused puppy. Adorable.

Chloe shakes her head. “No. I meant...um, your scars. Me, touching them,” she elaborates quietly.

“Ah...” He returns to the stove, eyebrows pulled in a frown for a different reason as he thinks.

For a few minutes, while he starts the bacon frying with more deliberation than the task calls for, she isn’t sure he’s going to answer. Then he turns and leans against the counter, curling his fingers around the edge. He swallows, almost a gulp as he looks at her. “In the past,” he says in a low voice, “I’ve avoided any touch to them, just as I did back when I had my wings. Nobody’s touched them for less than nefarious reasons in...” He blows out a breath, looking away. “A very long time. In fact, the only person who has, is Maze, and that was when she cut them off.”

She tries not to imagine him cutting off literal parts of himself. Limbs that he’d had all his life. However long that may have been. It must have been excruciating. Her eyes sting at the thought.

He slowly looks at Chloe again, his eyes conflicted, like he doesn’t know how to feel about whatever he’s about to say. “But when you touch them, Detective...” He shakes his head in what she thinks is astonishment, “it feels as if I have my wings again. As if I’m...whole again.”

Chloe sucks in a trembling breath, her eyes stinging. What does she even say to that?

“So, in answer to your question, Detective...no, I don’t mind. I would even go so far as to say that I rather enjoy it.” He gives her a soft, only-for-her smile. “If my reaction last night didn’t give that away...” He breaks the moment with a leering smile and waggling eyebrows, making her laugh.

“I’m glad I could do that for you, then,” she says softly. His expression softens again.

As he turns back to the stove, she wonders what it was about her touch that made him feel...that. Because she’s a Miracle? Or because she makes him vulnerable? She’d like to think that it’s just...her who makes him feel that way, but maybe that’s a bit egotistical. Like saying there’s something special about her. She knows there isn’t. Not really.

Lucifer thinks there is, her mind tells her. It makes her smile.

A couple minutes later, a plate appears in front of her with steaming, perfect omelet, crisp bacon, and a small bowl of freshly sliced fruit. “Here you are, Detective. Bon appétit,” Lucifer says with a grin.

Chloe’s smile widens. “This looks amazing, Lucifer. Thank you.” She knows it will taste just as good; she did manage to salvage that one omelet he broke into her house to cook that time.

Beaming, he goes about making his own plate, then joins her at the island. Chloe doesn’t think it’s unintentional that their shoulders and thighs are pressed together. “Do eat before it goes cold, darling. You’ll need your energy for later.” He looks her over with an appreciative expression, then turns to his own plate.

She feigns an innocent expression and asks, “What happens later?” Maybe the fluttering eyebrows are a bit overkill.

Then again, Lucifer’s eyes darken as he looks her over more thoroughly, this time lingering on her legs—he really likes her legs. In fact, he spent several minutes paying homage to them last night as he made his way north. “Whatever you desire, Chloe,” he says. His tone is low, sensual...tempting; so much so that she nearly says screw breakfast in order to get what she desires right now. Knowing the effect he’s having on her, the bastard smirks and winks, and turns back to his meal. Shaking herself, Chloe does the same.

For a few minutes, they eat mostly in silence, save Chloe’s appreciative (embarrassing) sounds at the taste of the food. Lucifer couldn’t look prouder—or smugger—if he tried. Then, a thoughtful frown appears on his lips almost out of nowhere, and he glances at her every few seconds, quickly looking away when she catches him. As if there’s something he wants to say, but he isn’t sure how to say it. Or if he should say it.

“Everything okay?” she asks, resting a hand on his forearm, her thumb rubs gentle circles on his skin. She watches in fascination as goosebumps appear on his arm.

He hums distractedly. She doesn’t know if it’s his thoughts or her touch distracting him. “Yes, of course,” he says dismissively, staring at her hand, mesmerized. She watches him chew his lip, eyes flashing with longing. He sighs, then blurts, “This wasn’t just...one night...was it?”

Chloe sets her fork down, slightly surprised he’s the one beginning this talk. She was wondering that herself. “Did you want it to only be one night?” From the way he was talking last night, she hadn’t thought so, but maybe he changed his mind...?

Turning to her, she sees hope and longing in his eyes again, along with uncertainty. “To be honest, Detective,” he says slowly, “I’m not sure it ever could have been just one night with you.”

Her heart soars and relief settles in. “Me, too. I didn’t want to be...you know, another notch on your bedpost.”

It’s been one of her main arguments against getting involved with Lucifer. Watching him with somebody new every night wasn’t easy, but she learned early that’s what he knows. What he likes. And as tempted as she has been in the past to just give in to her urges, the thought that he would move on to somebody else the next night stopped her. She was also worried that it would mean the end of their partnership; that Lucifer was just hanging around until he convinced her to have sex with him, and once she did, once he got what he wanted, he’d be gone.

“Never,” he says seriously, as if reading her thoughts. He turns his hand over to press their palms together, lacing their fingers. Chloe is fascinated by how perfectly her small hand fits with hers. They fit together perfectly in every way, really. “You’ve always been...different. Special. I’m not sure I’ll ever have enough of you.”

Chloe leans forward and kisses him, one hand on his cheek to hold him in place. She doesn’t think she’ll ever have enough of him, either. He wasn’t joking when he said he’s like walking heroin, very habit-forming. Not even she can resist him, it seems; certainly not when he’s saying things like that. And what’s more, she doesn’t want to.

Once he gets over his surprise, he responds to her kiss eagerly, his free hand going to her waist and trying to pull her closer. And Lucifer? He’s a really good kisser. He nips at her bottom lip, tugging on it lightly and pulling an involuntary sound out of Chloe along with it. Then runs his tongue along her lip to soothe it. And then he smirks when she kisses him harder.

The ass...

To her surprise, he’s the one to bring their kiss to a close, resting his forehead against hers and stroking her cheek with his thumb. When she opens her eyes, he’s looking at her with that reverential expression again, like he can’t believe she’s real. That she’s here with him. Well, that makes two of them.

“What do you desire, Detective?” he murmurs softly. Earnestly. Not like he would when he’s mojoing a suspect or anybody else; it’s just a question. One she suspects has more meaning to him than she knows. “Name it, and it’s yours.”

She shakes her head a little to get her point across. “I just want you, Lucifer,” she murmurs back. “I don’t need anything more than that.” His eyebrows furrow like he doesn’t understand. And, unbidden, she recalls his speech on the beach before she kissed him; the speech she won’t be forgetting in a hurry.

“You deserve someone...better, and that isn’t me... Because you, Detective, are selfless to a nauseating degree. You always put your daughter first, even though the ungrateful Urchin does nothing to contribute to the rent. So, you deserve someone worthy of that grace. Someone...who knows that every crime scene breaks your heart, even though you’d never admit it. Someone who appreciates your impossibly boring middle name...‘Jane’. More importantly, Detective, you deserve someone as good as you. Because...well. You’re special. And I’m...I’m not worth it.”

That was the moment she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he is absolutely worth it. She always thought so, otherwise she wouldn’t have put up with even half of his antics over the last year. But standing in front of her, proving it wasn’t just about sex for him...that he really knows who she is... It was the final nail in the coffin that was her willpower to hold back.

Releasing his hand so she can cup his face with both hands, she pulls away slightly, just enough to look at him better. “You’re enough,” she says softly but firmly.

His lips part in surprise and his eyes turn suspiciously bright. The expression in them is conflicting—like she’s everything he wants, too, but he’s reluctant to take it, take her for himself. He shakes his head. “You deserve someone better, Detective.”

She shakes her head. “That isn’t for you to determine. That’s my call, and I know what I want—who I want. It’s been you for a while, Lucifer.” Longer than she wants to admit...

“But...” He’s struggling with what he wants versus what he thinks is best for her, she can see it in his eyes. And she wonders if he’s ever had anyone to ask him what he wants, what he desires.

Well. He does now.

“What do you desire, Lucifer?” she asks softly.

The question stuns him and for a few moments, he looks stumped, like he doesn’t know how to answer. Then his expression clears and he looks at her with deep longing. “You,” he whispers needfully. “I only want you, Chloe. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Her heart feels too big for her chest. “It’s the same for me.” She slides her hands down his neck to rest over his rapidly beating heart. “So, maybe we try? We make a pretty good team, I think.”

“The best,” he agrees in a sigh. “I don’t know that I’d be any good at it, though. A...a relationship.” He stumbles over the word like it’s foreign to him; maybe it is. “I am the Devil, after all.”

“I can be patient.”

He huffs a laugh. “Darling, you’ve the patience of a saint; and I should know, I’ve met most of them. But I know I haven’t always been the easiest partner to have.”

She hums and gives a little half-shrug. He isn’t entirely wrong. “Still the best one I’ve ever had, though.”

“Well, naturally,” he says cockily—to make her laugh, she thinks. He smiles when she does. Then his eyes turn impossibly soft. “I want to try. After all, I can’t possibly be any worse than Detective Douche.”

Happiness crashes into her even as she rolls her eyes at the dig at Dan. “Good. We can figure things out as we go.” There’s only one thing she’s really concerned about when it comes to Lucifer. And she isn’t sure how to ask without it sounding totally awkward. So, she just asks, “Are you okay with...being exclusive?”

He gives her a mildly amused look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

The look she gives him is flat. “Do I really have to answer that?”

Ninety-two in eight weeks... And apparently, that was a dry spell for him. She did the math in her head after Dan told her what Lucifer said—eleven a week. And then there’s Chloe, who, apart from last night, hasn’t had sex in a year and a half, since she separated from Dan. Well, except in her dreams. But that doesn’t count, right?

Lucifer suppresses a smirk. “Yes, Detective, I am okay with exclusivity,” he answers warmly.

She bites her lip. His eyes follow the movement, flashing, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Are you sure? I don’t want to, like...force you to do anything you don’t really want to do,” she frets. She doesn’t want him to be a different person for her; to change who he is fundamentally. But relationships require compromise and establishing boundaries. This is one of her boundaries; Chloe doesn’t share.

His gaze returns to her, lust replaced with earnestness. “What more could I possibly need, if I have you?” he murmurs.

She stares at him for several moments, then kisses him again, because...well. How could she not after that?

Lucifer tugs her off her stool to stand between his legs, his hands finding her thighs, and she suspects they’re about to start round...she’s lost count, actually. Seven? Or is it eight? Before she realizes what’s happening, he’s lifted her onto the breakfast bar. It just happens to be the perfect height for him to step between her legs and press his hips against hers. Her fingers slide down his chest, enjoying the way his muscles contract beneath her touch, and start toying with his waistband—

“Luci? You home?” They freeze.

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking...” he groans, dropping his head to her shoulder at the interruption—again. “What the bloody hell does he want?” Sighing, he lifts his head and looks at her with regret and desire—and irritation. “My apologies, darling. I’ll go see what my idiot brother wants and then we can get back to more important things, hmm?”

She pecks his lips, unable to resist his adorable pout, and he backs away, helping her off the bar and back into her stool so he can go greet his brother. Before he leaves the kitchen entirely, he looks over his shoulder at her and groans in frustration again.

Chloe grins into her coffee.

Until it hits her again. Lucifer’s brother. The angel. The same angel who delivered a blessing to her mother so Chloe would be born. Suddenly, she’s glad she’s in the kitchen and they’re out there; what does one even say to the angel who assured their birth?

Wait...

Does that make Amenadiel my father...?

Then she shakes her head, because that’s preposterous. But still, it’s all a little insane. More than a little. It’s going to take some time for her to come to terms with all of this celestial stuff—it’s overwhelming to contemplate. An image of Lucifer waking up this morning and smiling at her flashes in her mind. But it’s worth it. Completely so.

And then she realizes she can hear their conversation. She probably shouldn’t be eavesdropping, even if they aren’t bothering to lower their voices, but...well, she’s curious.

“What do you want?” Lucifer asks grumpily.

“You’re...here...”

Chloe can almost hear Lucifer rolling his eyes. “Yes, obviously. I do live here.”

“But I thought you were going to leave?”

She almost forgot about that. What would have happened if she’d been five or ten minutes later getting here last night? Lucifer would be gone to Vegas, and she would have no idea where he was; if he was okay. Would he have come back?

“Yes, well. Change of plans, brother,” Lucifer says reluctantly. There’s a light thud she thinks might be a liquor bottle. “Why, are you tracking my movements for Father now, too? It wasn’t enough sending me back to Hell all those years? Or putting the Detective in my path?”

She hears Amenadiel sigh frustratedly. “Luci, I didn’t know that’s what I was doing. I had no idea about Chloe, or that she was a gift—”

“She is nobody’s gift!” Lucifer snaps angrily. “Chloe Decker is her own person with her own free will, and she belongs to no one, least of all me.”

Chloe can’t fight the smile at his words, his defense of her. One thing he’s wrong about, though...she’s definitely his.

“Either way, I didn’t know.”

“Perhaps not, but you were helping Mum push us together only to rip us apart, weren’t you? Don’t deny it, Mum confessed everything. You knew what the Detective meant to me, Amenadiel. And you knew what it would do to me if Mum’s plan succeeded. What She’s already done is bad enough.”

Another sigh from Amenadiel. “I’m sorry, Luci. All right? Mom thought—”

“Oh, I know bloody well what She thought, brother. But I’ve no intention of returning to the Silver City, now or ever. Even if I did, we both know what would happen to me, so Mum’s little war with Dad plan is off the table, anyway.”

Chloe frowns. What would happen to him if he returned to Heaven?

“Mom’s been trying to get in touch with you, Luci,” Amenadiel says quietly. Lucifer scoffs loudly. “She’s worried about you.”

“Oh, is She, now?”

“She went to Hell for you, Luci, for Chloe. She said you were trapped in—”

“Yes, for once, She did something any mother would do for their child. One good deed in eternity, bully for Her. Well, I’m done, brother. With the manipulations; with the plotting. All of it. Find your own way back to the Silver City. I’ve better things to do.”

Amenadiel is silent for several moments. “Do you...have company?” he asks awkwardly.

“So what if I do?” Lucifer asks carelessly. Even though he’s masking it, Chloe can hear the softness in his voice that she wouldn’t have recognized before last night.

“After everything we did to save Chloe, you’re back to sleeping your way through Los Angeles?” The angel sounds angry. “You do know that she left the hospital yesterday, don’t you? I can’t find her anywhere now.”

There’s silence for a few seconds, then, “And why, pray tell, would you be looking for the Detective in the first place?” Lucifer’s question echoes the one in Chloe’s mind.

“You told me to guard her!”

“Yes, when I was dead and in Hell,” Lucifer says, exasperated. “When we needed her to remain where she was so that I would remain vulnerable. But that was the end of it. Angel or creeper, brother? It’s a fine line.”

“You don’t seem all that worried that she’s missing.”

“The Detective can do as she likes.”

Chloe can’t resist the smile at his deflections.

Amenadiel scoffs. “So, just because you found out that Father placed her here, you no longer care for her? That’s callous, even for you.”

Chloe feels offended on Lucifer’s behalf; he’s anything but callous. Shouldn’t his own brother know that? She knows they aren’t particularly close, and that they’ve had physical altercations in the past, but still—

“Says the former angel who tried to kill me.”

She nearly chokes on her coffee. Amenadiel tried to kill Lucifer? When?

“Luci—”

“As I said, brother, I’ve better things to do. Tell Mum to stay away; you can do the same.”

Lucifer must convince his brother to leave, because a minute or so later, he’s returning to the kitchen, his good mood from earlier faded, but not gone entirely. His shoulders, which have been relaxed all morning, are now in a tense line, his expression dark...until he finds Chloe waiting for him; his eyes soften and he seems to relax a little.

“Again, my apologies for the interruption, Detective. I believe we were in the middle of something?” He raises his eyebrows hopefully.

“When did Amenadiel try to kill you?”

Lucifer freezes. “Ah. Heard that, did you?” Sighing, he pours himself a cup of coffee, bringing the carafe to the island to refill Chloe’s, as well, then pulls a bottle of whiskey from his pajamas pocket to top off his cup. She shakes her head when he lifts the bottle towards her in offering. “It’s been his...task to return me to Hell whenever I manage a brief escape, and though I didn’t make it easy for him, I went along with it; it was my punishment, after all,” he says quietly. “At least until 2011, when I came to Los Angeles. Long story short, Amenadiel asked me for a favor, and in return, I told him I would be remaining here and to leave me be. He wasn’t pleased and was certain Father would be furious, but I got my wish, more or less.

“Every so often, he would pop up and ‘request’ my return to the Underworld; I would decline, of course. Last year, he became desperate. In my absence from Hell, you see, he was the one looking in and keeping an eye on things; although, to be honest, I doubt he did much of anything; Hell, essentially, runs itself. Amenadiel was the one who had my wings stolen—it was an attempt to convince me I wanted them back; to assume my angelic form or some such nonsense. And it nearly worked.

“But when that failed...” Lucifer hesitates, sighing. There's an apology glimmering in his eyes. “Malcolm Graham wasn’t supposed to live, Detective,” he says gently. “He was dead. And in Hell. Until Amenadiel brought his soul back.”

Chloe stares at him in stunned silence. “I’m sorry, what?!”

Lucifer nods. “In return for giving him a second chance, Malcolm’s task was to kill me. At the time, we didn’t know that it was you, specifically, that made me vulnerable; we thought perhaps it was some sort of glitch after spending so much time on Earth. Malcolm convinced Daniel to steal a gun from Evidence, and...well. You know that story.”

She is really glad she’s sitting down as she mentally replays every single thing Malcolm did when he came out of his coma. Or came back to life, rather. What the actual fuck?! “So...you’re telling me that Amenadiel is the reason my daughter was kidnapped and nearly died, because he brought Malcolm back?” she asks, her voice deathly quiet.

Lucifer eyes her uneasily. “Pretty much, yes.”

“Trixie still has nightmares about that night! You died!”

“If it’s any consolation, Detective, Amenadiel was punished for that stunt, and likely, for a few other things he’s done, by our Father—he lost his wings and his angelic qualities. He’s practically human now.”

“Good. That means when I punch him, it’ll hurt.”

Lucifer barely bites back a laugh. “Indeed.”

How much else has gone on right behind her back without her knowing? She thinks through the last year and there are a lot of things that didn’t make sense then, and still don’t now, even knowing the truth about Lucifer.

“What else have I missed?”

He winces. “Quite a lot, I’m afraid. Though to be fair, I have told you most of it; you just...didn’t believe it.”

“Well, you can tell me again, now that I do believe it,” she says evenly. She’s tired of being in the dark when it comes to Lucifer Morningstar and the things that happen around her.

Lucifer sighs but capitulates, though it looks like the very last thing he wants to do. “Very well, Detective. But perhaps we can relocate to the balcony? It’s a lovely morning.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, wondering if he’s trying to distract her, Chloe nods. “Fine. Lead the way.”

Chapter Text

Lucifer looks nervous as they settle in chairs on the balcony. He detoured to the bedroom to grab his robe, since it’s a bit chilly out, and now he’s fiddling with the sleeves the way he would his cufflinks. He also thoughtfully grabbed a throw blanket for her that is insanely soft and warm. Then he reaches for his coffee, which at this point is mostly whiskey after he added more, and takes a deep gulp.

“I just want to know about the things that have happened during our partnership,” she says, hoping to help him settle. “There are a lot of things that are starting to make sense, but pieces of the puzzle are still missing.”

“And you’re the Detective,” he says quietly, almost a sigh. “Of course, you wish to put together that puzzle.”

She can’t argue that. Honestly, knowing that Lucifer is the actual Devil was the biggest missing piece and some of the little things make more sense. Maze makes more sense...

So he tells her everything from the beginning of their partnership. She already knows about Malcolm, but the part about his wings is still a little fuzzy.

“I cut them off after I told Amenadiel I was staying. Well. Mazikeen cut them off,” he says, staring out over the Los Angeles skyline as if he’s remembering. “We were on the beach, as a matter of fact.”

That explains why she found him at that spot last week—it has meaning to him. More now, she hopes.

“Amenadiel, as I said, was the one who stole them and tipped off the shady auctioneer, Carmen Grant. I had them in that container that was stolen, behind a false wall.”

Chloe straightens up. “I knew there was more in that container than those Russian dolls!” she says triumphantly.

He smiles. “Yes, you were correct about that, Detective. But, you see, the wings... They tend to have an effect on humans—they become...foam-at-the-mouth obsessed with them, or their minds are melted. Amenadiel is right about one thing: Humans and divinity don’t mix. Or rather, some elements of divinity. Having those wings loose in a city like Los Angeles? It could have been catastrophic.”

Which explains why he was so desperate to find them. And there she was, thinking he was into cosplay. Or that it was a sex thing...

“So, the auction. Those weren’t really your wings?”

“No. A bloody good forgery, though,” he says ruefully. “Carmen had the real ones in one of his off-the-books properties. I managed to track him down whilst you were investigating Palmetto. He had them mounted on his wall in a glass case, like some trophy.” Even a year later, he still looks furious about that.

And she can’t blame him. Between his own brother (an angel) being behind the actual theft and finding them the way he did... Chloe would be pissed, too.

She leans forward, placing a hand on his knee. He looks at her in question. “I’m sorry. For how dismissive I was with your wings. I should have stayed and helped you find them.”

With a soft smile, he covers her hand with his larger one. “No need for apologies, Detective. Truly. I’m not sure I would have wanted you in that house with me, anyway. I don’t know what effect the wings would have had on you, but it isn’t something I would have risked. And besides, you were quite helpful, even if you were flirting with my brother just to annoy me.”

Chloe smirks, unable to deny it. “What did you do with them?” She remembers joining him at Lux after she and Dan finished at Palmetto, and how dismissive Lucifer was about the wings he’d been so eager to locate.

“I burned them,” he says lightly, though she thinks his tone is for her benefit; it doesn’t match the look in his eyes. “Right there on the beach. In front of Amenadiel. He was...displeased, not only because I burned them, but because his plan failed. I believe you saw the results of our altercation later that evening.”

His face, swollen and bruised. He told her then it was from a fight with his brother.

She feels a pang of sadness that he burned his wings, though. If the ones at the auction were that close a replica to the real ones... It’s a shame they’re gone, whatever his feelings are about them.

“And that’s when he brought Malcolm back?”

Lucifer nods. “Yes,” he sighs. “Bloody nightmare that that was, I’m sure you’ll agree. Malcolm did die, briefly, and he was in Hell for approximately thirty seconds on Earth, which would have felt...much longer for him. My understanding is that Amenadiel told Malcolm that by killing me it would ensure that he would never have to return. And if he didn’t agree, then my brother would send him back. Both of which were lies—I have no say in who goes to Hell, much less Amenadiel. And angels aren’t allowed to kill humans.”

Chloe blinks. “Wait. You don’t have a say in who goes to Hell?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Humans themselves decide where they go after death. All part of the free will package. As I told you last night, guilt is what determines whether a soul goes to Hell.”

“Right. Sorry.” She has so many questions about how Hell works—Heaven, too, but now isn’t the time.

“Don’t be,” he says kindly. “Anyhow, Malcolm showed up at the penthouse to kill me one evening, the night of the Dunlear party at Lux, as a matter of fact. I hadn’t yet worked out the source of my vulnerability, so I made a deal of my own with him. I had a coin, you see, a sort of subway token for the damned, in case I ever needed or wanted to return to Hell.”

Chloe has a faint memory of watching him toy with a coin, but she never got a close enough look at it; he always pocketed it when she approached. But there was one time she could have sworn she saw it spinning in the air above his palm.

“I gave it to Malcolm in exchange for not killing me. Vanessa Dunlear visited me not long after that, and when I worked out that she was the one who killed her husband, she pulled a gun from her purse and shot me. Fortunately, you were not yet in the vicinity, and I awoke a short time later to find Daniel in the penthouse.”

She’s a bit confused about why Dan was there, but it’s overridden by guilt over making him vulnerable to harm. What if she’d arrived at Lux a bit earlier?

“Detective?” He tilts his head, looking concerned.

Biting back the question on her tongue, she shakes her head and forces a smile. “Sorry. I’m good.”

“Are you certain? You don’t look it.”

Chloe sighs. For someone so generally oblivious, he’s incredibly observant when he wants to be. “What happens to you, if you die?” she asks quietly. He blinks in surprise at the question. “Like, if I had gotten to Lux earlier that night when Vanessa shot you. What would have happened?”

“I would have gone back to Hell,” he says simply, like it’s no big deal. “And then I would have had to find a new way out, but I would have managed it eventually.”

And he said thirty seconds on Earth is much longer—how much longer? “Oh,” she says in a small voice.

Lucifer reaches for her hand. “Please, don’t worry about that, Detective. I’ve spent eons in Hell; a little more time there isn’t going to do me any harm. And I always find my way back.”

Now, she’s wondering what would have happened if Linda hadn’t been able to bring him back when he went to Hell for her formula. “Do you have more of those coins laying around?” she asks hopefully.

“No. That was one of a kind, I’m afraid. But there are other ways for me to leave Hell, Detective, even without my wings. I still have several tricks up my fashionable sleeve.” His teasing smile fades and he looks at her earnestly. “I’d find my way back to you. Whatever it takes.”

“Promise?”

He gives her a small smile. “You have my word.”

Sighing in relief, she nods. “Okay, so what happened then?” She tries to remember the timeline. “The...Satanists case, right?”

Lucifer scowls. “Yes, well, before that... After the party guests left, that’s when I worked out that you make me vulnerable.”

Oh, right. That. The three weeks when he avoided her and dodged all her calls. When she actually went to Lux to drag him out of the penthouse, she deliberated for several minutes before even stepping into the elevator about whether she should. Or if she wanted to—she had images of finding him mid-orgy.

And he was so...weird on that case in the beginning. Refusing to be within five feet of her, driving his own car instead of riding with her. She assumed it was because of what she said to him, about being vulnerable.

Apparently, it was. And it wasn’t. He realized she makes him physically vulnerable to harm. She also remembers him demanding to look at her bare back.

“Why?”

“Because I want to find out if you’re an angel sent to destroy me.”

Well, he has no problem being near her now. Last night proved that much.

“Maze and I tested different materials to find out specifically if it was something else that made me vulnerable, but...well. And she was still in the proverbial doghouse with me at that point.”

That gets Chloe’s attention. “What? Why?”

He looks at her. “Hmm? Oh, I suppose I didn’t mention that, did I? Yes, Amenadiel’s other tactic to find ways to return me to my throne was to gain information—from Mazikeen. She told him about Dr. Linda, and Amenadiel posed as a therapist, of all things, to get the inside scoop on me.”

Wow...

Chloe hadn’t been sure what to think of Lucifer’s brother before all of this, but now...

“For some time, Maze and I weren’t on speaking terms, but she double-crossed Amenadiel. Triple-crossed?” His eyebrows furrow, then his expression clears. “They were shagging.”

She blinks a few times. “Of course, they were,” she says flatly. From what she can tell, everybody but she was getting laid.

Lucifer smirks. “In the end, though, she decided we were both using her and quit working for me. Since then, she’s been her own demon.” He hesitates. “And I suppose I should mention... You’ve nothing to fear from Mazikeen, Detective. She would never harm you or your offspring. Never mind what I would do to her if she attempted it, she...genuinely cares for the Urchin.”

Maybe there should be some fear there. She doesn’t know much about what actual demons are like, but everything she’s ever seen or heard (much like what the world thinks of the Devil) has been bad. They’re supposed to revel in chaos and torture and death. And then she thinks about what she knows about Maze. All of the above, but at the same time...

Trixie loves her. Maze has been the best babysitter Chloe has ever had, even if she isn’t always the best roommate. Aside from the holes in the walls from knife throwing, there have been issues with some of the company she brings home. Though, admittedly, she has gotten better about saving the worst of it for when Trixie is at Dan’s—and Chloe has learned to use noise-canceling headphones. And though Chloe isn’t thrilled about Maze teaching her eight-year-old how to take apart a grown man...well. After Malcolm, maybe it isn’t such a bad idea. And the self-defense lessons have given Trixie more confidence and helped her to(mostly) get past the kidnapping.

Maze can be (is) scary and intense at times, but Chloe has never feared her. Nor has she ever feared leaving Trixie with her. There’s never been cause for her to fear either, and while she doors try to hide it, she knows Maze cares for her daughter; she’d never allow any harm to come to her, much less cause it herself.

She glances at Lucifer who’s watching her without actually watching her, his eyes darting sidelong towards her every few seconds. Just in the last twelve hours or so, he’s broken her stereotypical thoughts about the Devil; why can’t the same be true for Maze? And unless either of them gives her real reason to think differently, she is going to follow her gut and what she’s seen from them.

“I’m not afraid of Maze,” she says quietly. “Or you.” Because she knows that’s what he’s really getting at with his reassurances: That he would never hurt them.

When he relaxes, she knows she was right. “Right, then. Good.” He gives her a small smile, clearing his throat. “Where were we?”

She inwardly winces. “The Satanists’ case.”

Lucifer takes a quick sip of his mostly-whiskey coffee. “Of course,” he sighs heavily. “Well, as we now know, Malcolm was behind those grisly deaths. I suppose he was trying to...impress me,” he says, his lip curling in disgust. “He seemed to think after our deal to not kill me that we were friends, which was so not the case. After you and Daniel yeeted me off the case—”

“I’m sorry about that,” Chloe interrupts without meaning to. He blinks at her. “Lucifer, I was worried that somebody would come after you because of that case. It was never about not trusting you, I hope you know that. I never once thought you killed anybody.”

His mouth opens and closes soundlessly a few times, then he clears his throat again. “Thank you for saying that, Detective,” he says softly, his eyes conveying what her words really mean to him. “I suppose that case dredged up many...unpleasant feelings for me. I’ve never killed a human, not once, and to be accused of something so heinous...well. It’s nothing new, really.”

Faintly, she wonders why he stumbled over the beginning of that last sentence, but she doesn’t ask him about it. And he continues before she can really think about it too much.

“Anyhow, after all that, and the altercation with the street preacher, Malcolm found me and followed me back to Lux.” His expression darkens. “I realized it was he who committed those murders, but before I could punish him for it—or call you—Amenadiel showed up to the party with his typical atrocious timing. I needed him off Earth, you see, and when an angel is killed,” his jaw tightens briefly and something flashes in his eyes, too quickly for her to identify, “they return to the Silver City. Mazikeen tried and failed, and he was angry about that.

“I was still convinced you were a weapon of some sort,” he sends her an apologetic glance, “and that he was behind it in some way.” He rolls his eyes at himself. “Well, I suppose he was, just not the weapon part. Anyway, we fought until Maze arrived and put us in our places. You found me in Lux shortly thereafter.”

Chloe replays that scene in her head, and something else she’s never been able to figure out pops up. Lucifer, angry and betrayed (“You’re just like all the others”), with half a dozen guns pointed at him—hers, included—and goading a rookie officer into firing. Then he just...vanished without a trace. She remembers her heart stopping briefly, fearful that he’d just gotten himself killed, then relieved that he was gone. But she could never explain how he was gone.

“Where did you go?” she asks abruptly.

“Hmm?”

“We were all in Lux, and the officer fired...and then, you just vanished. How?”

Lucifer looks at her for a moment, and she just knows that he’s replaying it in his mind, too. A muscle in his jaw twitches as he looks away. “Amenadiel,” he says lightly. “He swooped in at the last second and flew me away. This was before he lost his wings, obviously. I told him to take me back to Hell, but he refused; we needed to find Malcolm.”

“You were going to go back to...H-hell?” She isn’t sure why she stumbles over the word; maybe because now she knows it isn’t some imaginary place, but somewhere very real. And Lucifer was there for...who knows how long.

He nods once. “I was.”

She shakes her head. “Why?” Why would he ever want to go back there, especially after only just gaining his freedom?

The sad look he gives her is answer enough. Because of her. Because he thought she’d turned on him the way everybody else does.

“Lucifer...”

“I know, Detective,” he says in a low voice. “I know that you were on my side, but at the time...it didn’t seem as if there was anything to remain here for.”

Not thinking about anything but that look on his face, Chloe leans over and hugs him. As always, he hesitates for a moment, then wraps his arms around her in return, resting his cheek against her temple. “I’ve always been on your side,” she whispers fiercely, just in case he hasn’t gotten the message.

He lets out a shaky chuckle. “Yes, I think I’m starting to see that, Detective,” he murmurs. When she backs away, his eyes are bright and he’s smiling at her. “Right, then.” Chloe sits again, but keeps a hold of his hand, partly for support; mostly because she just likes it. He doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. “Dr. Linda found us in the office Amenadiel rented in her building, when he was pretending to be a therapist, and discovered he was lying to her. She took us both to task, of course.” His face lights up like he’s only just thought of something. “Oh, incidentally, Detective, if you wish to speak to another human about your celestial awakening, Linda is also in the know.”

“Linda knows?” she asks, surprised. And, she can’t deny it, she’s a little hurt that Linda knew before she did. Then again, she supposes therapy would be a bit difficult if Lucifer’s therapist wasn’t fully aware of who he is.

Lucifer hums. “Only for a few months now,” he says gently, as though he knows what she’s thinking. Or maybe something of her thoughts shows on her face. “She was fed up with what she believed were my metaphors and demanded the truth if we were to continue our sessions. So, I showed her.”

“The same thing you showed me? Your eyes?”

He shakes his head. “No. I showed her my...Devil face,” he says with a sigh.

Chloe blinks. “Your...what, now?”

“It’s what I use to punish guilty souls in Hell. And on Earth, as well. A physical manifestation of...well. What I am. The Devil.”

She squeezes his hand. “Will you show me?”

“No,” he says sharply, the grip he has on her fingers tightening. “No, Detective,” he softens his tone, “as I said it is for the guilty, and you, my dear, have done nothing to deserve it. Truth be told, I never should have shown Linda, but at the time I was...struggling with something and gave in to a moment of weakness.”

Although she wants to push—both about this face thing and whatever he was struggling with—Chloe holds back. There’s something in his eyes that’s almost begging her to not ask. “Okay,” she says, unable to keep back her disappointment. “But just so you know, nothing would change how I feel about you, Lucifer.”

“You say that now,” he mutters under his breath. “We’re getting sidetracked... Amenadiel and I went searching for Malcolm. We got a lead from Detective Douche and followed it to the brewery. Little did we know, Malcolm had one of Mazikeen’s demon blades—it’s the only thing that can hurt an invulnerable angel apart from another angel. After we split up, Malcolm stabbed Amenadiel. Maze stayed with him whilst I went after Malcolm. And then I ran into you.” He gives her a winning smile. Then his eyebrows furrow. “You know, I never did learn how you and Mazikeen teamed up. Talk about unlikely pairings...”

Chloe rolls her eyes at the memory. “I went back to Lux, searching for any sign of you. She refused to help me until she realized I actually was on your side, then invited herself along.”

“Yes, she does tend to do that,” he says with what sounds like fondness. “Anyway, you know the rest of the story. Well, mostly. I suppose I should mention the part where, when I was in Hell, I discovered an open door and an escaped soul. My end of the deal I made with my father was to return the soul to their rightful place.”

“Did you?” she asks warily.

He makes a face. “Not exactly, no. The soul was my mother.”

Right. The Goddess of All Creation. Chloe recalls what he told her last night about Her. And how She tried to kill Chloe. “So, if She’s in Charlotte’s body, where’s Charlotte?”

“In Hell,” he sighs. “It’s the only way Mum could have hitched a ride up to Earth, through a recently dead, damned soul.”

Thinking back, she remembers how focused Lucifer had been on pinning murders on his mother, and how he thought She would come after him. “Why did you think She was going to come after you?”

“Because I was Her jailer for eons,” he says. “And because when I was cast out of Heaven, She didn’t say a word in my defense—nobody did—so when She came to Hell, I gave Her the same treatment and never visited. I thought She would seek revenge; She’s always been...temperamental.”

“But She wasn’t seeking revenge?”

Lucifer huffs. “Not as such, though She’s certainly gotten it in spades,” he says grimly. “No, She wishes to reunite with Her family. For now, we’re all stuck on Earth without a wing between us.”

Chloe frowns. “So, if She’s still here, then what about the deal with your father?”

He freezes. Not only physically, but he literally goes cold—the hand she’s been holding went from his usual heat to ice in about three seconds flat. And he isn’t looking at her, either.

Was it something she said? “Lucifer?” she says softly, squeezing his fingers.

Slowly, he reanimates. “Detective, I...” He makes a strangled sort of noise in the back of his throat.

“Whatever it is, you don’t have to talk about it.” Especially if it’s going to do this to him.

He shakes his head. “You should know the truth, Detective,” he says in a low voice. Guilt and grief and shame flicker through his eyes in turns, as though he can’t settle on which emotion to feel more, and he curls in on himself.

“Hey...” Her hand goes to his shoulder, worried he’s going to topple over. He barely seems to be aware of his surroundings. Or of her.

“I told you there are things that I’ve done—horrible things,” he says in that same tone before she can tell him not to. “This was the worst.” He takes a shaky breath and lets it out slowly. “You see, Dad never specified what it was that He wanted me to do in terms of Mum. So I found a loophole: Mum would continue Her punishment, but remain on Earth. And it was working for a time, until someone in the Silver City decided my solution wasn’t good enough. I believe you’ll recall your car accident?”

Chloe frowns. “What about it?” she asks slowly.

He looks at her, but doesn’t actually meet her gaze. “At the time, I told you that you were being targeted by cosmic forces. You were; I was wrong about who was doing the targeting.”

She feels the color drain from her body. “No,” she says weakly, shaking her head. “No, Lucifer, it was just an accident.”

His apologetic eyes finally meet hers. “It wasn’t, Detective. My brother, Uriel... He had a gift for patterns—he could see them, predict them, even manipulate circumstances to fit his desired results. Sort of the butterfly effect. That was Uriel’s life’s work.”

Chloe doesn’t miss his use of the past tense, but she doesn’t interrupt him. She isn’t sure he would hear her if she did.

“He came to Earth around Halloween and arranged your car accident as a warning—to me. To show me how easy it would be for him to hurt you. I told you angels can’t kill humans? Well, that doesn’t mean they can’t harm humans. And Uriel had a loophole of his own where he could set the board, knock over a domino, and never get his hands dirty. Then he gave me an ultimatum and a deadline—either I hand over Mum or your life would be forfeit.” He’s speaking in a flat tone, not like he’s telling her the story, but like he’s reliving it all over again. His gaze is distant; he’s seeing the events play out. Chloe squeezes his hand and shoulder, reminding him that she’s here.

Well, she did wonder what happened around Halloween that made him go into self-destruct mode. She supposes she’s about to find out... And she isn’t certain she wants to know. Or at least that she wants to force Lucifer to go through it again.

“We tried everything we could think of to talk Uriel down, including intimidation. Amenadiel went to send Uriel back home, but at that point, unbeknownst to me, he’d lost his wings and his angelic powers. He returned to the penthouse looking as though he’d been run over by a truck. And by then, time was running out. I refused to send Mum back and I couldn’t allow Uriel to hurt you, either. So I confronted him in an old church.” He huffs bitterly. “I thought it appropriate, at the time.

“That’s when I learned Uriel’s true plan: He had no intention of returning Mum to Hell. He ‘borrowed’ a blade off our sister, the Angel of Death, and when used against celestials, it wipes the soul out of existence. Uriel was going to kill Her. Maze and I tried to fight him, but he could predict every move we made. And then, he decided he’d had enough and was not only going to wipe Mum out of existence, but he was going to start an unstoppable sequence that, in two days’ time, would kill you, as well.”

Lucifer is shaking now. His eyes are wet, but no tears fall. And though Chloe has a suspicion of how this story ends, she can’t get the words out to tell him he doesn’t have to say it. All she can do is grip his hand with both of hers and hope it’s enough to tether him to the here and now.

“I couldn’t let him hurt you, Chloe,” he whispers painfully. “I had to stop him. I don’t even remember picking up the blade, and then, I stabbed him.” His face crumples with grief. “I killed my own brother.”

“Oh, Lucifer...” She wraps her arms around his shoulders, holding him close as he dissolves into tearless sobs. His head drops to her shoulder and one of his arms curls around her waist, gripping the back of her shirt. Pressing her face to his hair, she rubs soothing circles on his back, the way she would when Trixie has a nightmare. “Shh, it’s okay,” she murmurs into his ear. She wants to tell him he did what he had to do, from what it sounds like, and that she’s had to end lives before, too, but he wouldn’t hear her right now.

And to think, he was going through this right under her nose. She knew something had happened, something had hurt him deeply, but she hadn’t imagined this... No wonder he was such a wreck, suffering through this on his own; somehow, she doesn’t think his family was much of a help. And she remembers Lucifer saying something about breaking his therapist around that time, and—

Oh...

Her mind makes the connection between that and Linda learning the truth about Lucifer. Is that why he thought he’d broken her?

Eventually, Lucifer settles, his sobs tapering off, but he still retains a death grip on her, as though she’s the only thing anchoring him to reality. When he lifts his head, his eyes are red-rimmed and he won’t meet her gaze.

“My apologies, Detective,” he says stiffly, his voice hoarse.

“Don’t apologize,” she says gently but firmly. One of her hands is at the back of his neck, brushing through the tiny hairs at his nape. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Lucifer. And I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.” If she’d known...

He furrows his brow in bemusement. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Lucifer, you never should have been in a position where you were forced to make that decision in the first place. I’m sorry you felt that you had to, but I’m also grateful that you did. You saved me, again, without me even knowing about it.” Now, she’s wondering how many other times he’s saved her.

“Well, of course, I did, Detective,” he says incredulously. “You were an innocent caught up in a celestial feud; it was my fault you were hurt at all.”

She shakes her head firmly. “No. It was Uriel’s. He made the decision to come down here and stir up trouble.”

“He thought it was what our father wanted,” he says softly.

“It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t on you.”

“Did you not hear what I said? I’m a fratricide, Detective. A monster.”

It really does break her heart when he talks about himself like this... “You’re not a monster, Lucifer. What you did was in self-defense and the defense of others. I’ve had to do the same thing,” not to her own brother, but still... “more than once. I killed Malcolm; does that make me a monster?”

“Never,” he says fiercely. “You were protecting your child, Detective.”

“And you were protecting your mother. And Maze. And me,” she says without hesitation. He frowns as though he’s never thought of it that way. “From the sound of it, you did everything you could to stop him; he forced your hand, Lucifer.”

“But...” he says weakly, eyes darting all over the balcony. “I should have found another way.”

“What way? Right at that moment, how would you have stopped him? You said he was going to kill me and your mom.”

Lucifer nods slowly. “He had his finger over the key of an old organ; pressing it would have started the sequence that led to your death.” His frown deepens. “I don’t know,” he whispers in answer to her question.

“Exactly,” she says gently. “He didn’t give you a choice.”

He doesn’t respond; instead, he settles back in his chair, thinking. Chloe lets him.

She can’t imagine what he’s going through. Dealing not only with the loss of a family member, but to be the one who ended that family member’s life? It’s unthinkable. She remembers the grief she went through when her dad died, the grief she still carries, even if it’s somewhat faded now, and how painful it was. And she was dealing with it on her own, too; her mother’s way of grieving involved traveling and taking every acting job that came her way. It’s one of the reasons Chloe and Penelope are so distant now.

It’s worse for Lucifer. According to him, when angels die, they just...respawn like video game characters. Except this time, his brother’s soul was wiped from existence, which is a horrifying thought. But he doesn’t get a do-over.

Another horrifying thought strikes her. Lucifer said guilt takes a soul to Hell. He was a soul, with heavy guilt, when he went to retrieve the formula for her antidote. And he said he was trapped in a room until his mother came to rescue him...

Chloe’s stomach curdles. He died without a second thought, knowing he had that guilt and what could possibly happen, and still did it. To protect her.

Well, if that isn’t love, I don’t know what is... she thinks grimly.

Looking at Lucifer now, he’s turned his gaze to the sky as though he’s searching for something. The grief and pain are still there, tensing the line in his shoulders, but something in his eyes looks...lighter. After a moment, she realizes what it is: The guilt is gone. Or if not gone, severely lessened.

Did she actually help him? She hopes so. Nobody deserves to suffer that sort of pain, least of all Lucifer. Not when what he did saved her life, again.

Not for the first time, she bites her tongue on those three words. They’re struggling to escape now, but she doesn’t think he’s ready to hear them.

She also doesn’t think she can keep them in much longer.

Chapter Text

After telling her about Uriel, they relocate back inside and settle beside one another on the couch. Chloe cuddles into Lucifer’s side, to his astonishment, but he recovers quickly enough and wraps an arm around her shoulders. Then he tells her everything else she’s missed in the last couple of months. Including the story behind the yoga massacre case.

“You stole the murder weapon,” she says flatly, looking up at him with a narrow-eyed glare.

“Did you miss the part where I said it’s a celestial weapon that compels humans to take a trip to Stabby Town?” he asks incredulously. “And that it wipes celestial souls from the map entirely? That weapon has no business being in the hands of humans and if Mum hadn’t let it loose—”

“What?”

Lucifer hums. “Mum decided in Her infinite wisdom that the way to get Dad’s attention after...” he falters, pain flashing in his eyes, “after Uriel...was to break some of His toys. She believed that if enough humans died, Dad would actually show up and grieve with Her. Spoiler alert: It did not work. In fact, I was nearly smited by Daniel over pudding theft.”

“What?” Chloe pulls away from him, scanning him from head to toe, searching for any sign that he’s hurt, even though rationally she knows he's okay.

He smiles softly. “I’m fine, Detective, I promise. Daniel was the one to take the blade from the yoga guru with the bad juju’s body and I found him near the pool. It would seem he’s been harboring some ill will towards me for a litany of offenses, only one of which I was actually responsible for. But he fought the power of the blade, which I didn’t think possible, and I was able to talk him down. After that, I removed the blade from human hands; I didn’t think it should end up in LAPD Evidence Lockup.”

She remembers her frustration over that missing weapon—as well as her jealousy when she noticed Lucifer and Ella spending increased amounts of time together. She wants to lecture him, but she can also see his point. Once again, though, it’s a problem that could have been lessened if she knew the truth.

“I wish you’d told me sooner,” she murmurs a bit too petulantly, fiddling with the tie on his robe. He tilts his head in question. “About you, I mean.”

Lucifer releases a breath, not quite a sigh but close. “I am sorry, Detective. I’m, shall we say, not accustomed to any human sticking around once they know the unequivocal truth about me. And certainly not when it comes to humans I consider friends. I thought Dr. Linda would be equipped to handle it, and yet, after she recovered from her catatonic state, she was terrified. It took her two weeks and Maze convincing her to even return my calls again. Even now, she has difficulty on occasion. And, well...I didn’t want to do that to you, especially. I showed you my eyes last night, because I was sure I was leaving Los Angeles, anyway, and that way you wouldn’t be constantly looking over your shoulder for the Devil coming for you.”

Releasing the tie, Chloe reaches instead to cup his face. He instinctively leans into her touch. “Not afraid of you,” she tells him yet again.

He gives her a smile that’s half-relieved, half-sad. “And I am glad beyond measure, darling, truly. But I had to assume you would react the same as all the others, it’s how humans are hardwired—to fear the Devil. I didn’t want to lose you, Chloe.”

She rears up and kisses him. He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, but responds immediately. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promises in a murmur against his lips.

He deepens the kiss, sliding his fingers into her hair and cradling the back of her head. Chloe can practically taste his relief and gratitude. His free hand slides to her bare thigh and tugs slightly, indicating what he wants; she gets the message, twisting so she can straddle his thighs. Lucifer groans into her mouth, both hands on her face now, angling her for his kiss.

For the second time in the last twelve or so hours, she feels a sense of déjà vu, living out the dream she had after their kiss on the beach. Her hands slide beneath his robe, feeling the hard angles of his muscles moving and contacting beneath her touch.

His hands leave her face, falling to her legs, dragging just the tips of his fingers from her ankles to her upper thighs, then he pushes up the hem of the white dress shirt to feel the bare skin beneath it. The whine Chloe emits is entirely involuntary, but it urges Lucifer on; he touches her more firmly, still careful to not hurt her. Meanwhile, her fingers slide lower, too, finding the drawstring of his pajama bottoms, tugging the bow loose.

It’s a little amazing to her; she’s had...she doesn’t even know how many orgasms since last night and she thought she was sated. It would seem not, because she wants him again. And he seems just as eager, if what’s pressing against her thigh is any indication.

Lucifer’s mouth leaves hers, trailing a path of hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw then down her neck. His fingers have found the apex of her thighs and she gasps when he brushes along her clit, sending a jolt of electricity through her body and right back to the source, making her throb even harder with need.

“Want you,” he groans into her ear.

She can hear the question in his voice and nods, lifting his face so he can see her eyes. “Yes,” she whispers, kissing him again.

His loud groan sends warmth flooding between her legs. Rather than messing around with her shirt, he rips it clean off her; she pauses for a second, blinks at him, and kisses him hard again—that was pretty damn hot. And since she’s wearing nothing beneath, he immediately goes to work. One hand on her breast, the other between her legs, his wickedly talented mouth on hers, and it’s almost sensory overload.

Somehow, she manages to get his bottoms off—he lifts his hips, and her, and slides them off one-handed. Her hand, the one not tightening in his hair, is wrapping around his cock. He curses against her neck, breathing hard. Chloe smiles into his hair. Lucifer retaliates, sliding one then two fingers inside her, immediately finding the spot he found last night that makes her lose her breath.

“Lucifer...” she breathes, tugging his earlobe with her teeth.

Growling as he makes his way to her breast, he crooks and pumps his fingers, his thumb on her clit. And it’s absurd, but she can already feel her climax building as she grinds down onto his hand. She always had a suspicion that his talented pianist’s fingers would feel amazing; this is unbelievable. She loses track of anything that isn’t him or them; nothing else exists.

“Close,” she gasps, dropping her head to his shoulder.

He groans, lifting his head to look at her face, kissing her jawline. “Come for me, Detective,” he breathes into her skin.

Her body obeys immediately: She clenches around his fingers, pulling him deeper, as deep as he can go, and she lets go, crying out his name—or at least some version of it. She feels one of his arms wrap around her waist, holding her in place as he continues to move his hand, working her through it, prolonging it. Faintly, she can hear him groaning along with her.

After who knows how long, she blinks open her eyes to find herself laid out on the Italian leather sofa with Lucifer pressed along her side, propped up by his elbow, his head resting on his fist. She’s never seen a softer look in his eyes.

“Welcome back,” he murmurs, leaning down to press his lips briefly to hers.

She hums against his mouth. “Hi,” she whispers. “How long was I out?”

“Ten minutes or so. No snoring this time, by the way,” he reports with a teasing grin.

Even through her eye roll, she can’t stop smiling. “You’re such an ass,” she mutters.

“So I’ve been told.” He couldn’t look happier about that. Then his expression softens again, and not for the first time in their partnership, she wonders what he’s thinking.

So, for once, she asks. “What are you thinking about?”

His eyes dart between hers. “I was thinking...” Briefly, she thinks he’s about to give some flippant response to avoid any sort of emotional scene, but he surprises her. “...you’re really quite exquisite.”

Chloe bites her lip against what she’s sure is a ridiculous smile. “Yeah?”

He nods. “And I was further thinking that I can’t believe my luck in having you here with me like this. By now, I’d intended to be buried in as much booze and narcotics as I could locate in Sin City.”

The flippant reminder that he planned to leave her is a bucket of ice water thrown over her. “Were you really not going to tell me you were leaving?”

Instantly, he looks remorseful—whether about leaving or about bringing it up, she isn’t sure. “I knew that if I did tell you, then you would manage to convince me to stay.” She isn't seeing a problem here. “And I was sure it was in your best interest that I leave.”

“Mine or yours?”

“Both,” he says bluntly. “We’ve both been pawns in this game, Detective. As badly as I didn’t want to leave, and likely would have been unable to stick it out, I thought it was better for both of us. But mostly, I had to try to give you back what I believed my father took from you—your choice. Your freedom.”

“Well, I still think you’re wrong.” She feels cold again at the thought that she could have lost him, and wouldn't have known why, and wraps her arms around herself.

Lucifer reaches above them and pulls a blanket from the back of the sofa, covering her. “Yes, you’ve made your opinion on the matter abundantly clear, Detective,” he says wryly. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for any pain I’ve caused you—in this situation and in the past. That’s never been my intention.”

She nods against his shoulder. “Just...talk to me next time, yeah? We can work through it together. That’s how we do our best work, anyway.”

He smiles. “You’re not wrong, darling.” He shifts slightly, and she’s suddenly reminded that she just had a mind-blowing orgasm...and he hasn’t. Her hand starts to slide down his chest, but he catches her wrist gently, shaking his head earnestly. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” she says softly. “I want to.”

His smile turns downright devilish. “Well, far be it for me to stand in the way of your desires, Detective...” Leaning down, he kisses her again, humming contentedly against her lips and releasing her wrist to do as she pleases.

Following round who-knows-how-many, they have a late lunch on the balcony, then migrate to the piano. Chloe is wearing a new shirt and a pair of Lucifer’s boxer briefs as she sits beside him, her head on his shoulder as he plays. She doesn’t recognize the song, but it’s lovely—a sweet, hopeful piece, and she suspects it’s a reflection of Lucifer’s inner feelings. And that gives Chloe her own warm feelings, to know she had something to do with his contentment.

Probably, she should head back to her apartment. Dan will be bringing Trixie home tomorrow evening, then Chloe has two weeks left on her enforced, post-poison medical leave ahead of her. Which she isn’t looking forward to for a variety of reasons, starting with, she’s a workaholic. Still, there’s plenty to do at home while her daughter is at school, including a stack of case files she took from her desk before the poisoning.

The thing is, though...she doesn’t want to go home. Maze is going to be gone all weekend, and without Trixie there, she’s alone with her thoughts. And while that might be a good thing given everything she’s learned recently, she doesn’t want to leave Lucifer. She likes spending time with him; she feels comfortable with him in a way she doesn’t with most people. And she doesn’t think she wants her to leave, either. In fact, when she mentioned it after lunch, he whined and grabbed her around the waist, practically manhandling her into his lap where he proceeded to kiss the thought out of her mind. Not that she had any complaints.

It isn’t about the sex, which is indescribably amazing; it’s just...him. Lucifer. Her partner and maybe boyfriend—she’s still a bit unclear about that. Either way, though, time with Lucifer, when it’s just the two of them, and there's no drama around them, is easy and uncomplicated. It's exactly what she needs right now.

When he finishes playing, he lowers his hands to his thighs and gazes intently at the keys, his brow furrowed low over his eyes. He swallows hard, lips parting as if something surprised him, and an indescribable emotion flashes through his eyes.

“Lucifer?” she says softly. “You okay?”

Slowly, he turns towards her as if he's seeing her for the first time, his eyes scanning every inch of her face. He nods slowly, dazedly. “Yes,” he answers, his voice little more than a croak. “I just...realized something...”

“Do you want to talk about it?” She hesitates, knowing how easily he spooks when it comes to anything emotional.

And just as she expected, a tiny flicker of panic flickers across his expression. “I...”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to,” she says quickly. It’s a little disappointing, but this is Lucifer, and now that she knows the truth of the scope of his emotional stuntedness, it explains a lot. And it is heartbreaking that he is apparently thousands (millions? billions?) of years old and has such little understanding about how he feels and how to communicate it. Those are things a human would have learned as a child growing up in a loving home and family. Lucifer had none of that.

But, she supposes, that’s why he has Linda.

“Do you know what you mean to me, Detective?” he murmurs, lifting a hand to her cheek.

Well, he followed her into a situation that led to him dying, then more recently, voluntarily died and went to Hell, and nearly got stuck reliving his guilt for eternity, so... “I have an idea,” she answers with a smile, leaning into his touch.

He kisses her, not as a prelude to sex, but something slow and tender, like he’s trying to tell her something he can’t put into words. His free arm wraps around her middle, tugging her closer, or as close as their positions on the piano bench allow. Chloe reaches to rest one hand against his neck, her thumb brushing the underside of his jaw, and the other flat against his chest, feeling his strong, steady heartbeat.

There’s a low churning of want forms in her belly, but she ignores it, instead focusing on the man (Devil? Angel?) in front of her. His eyes are closed and his brow is furrowed again, like he’s feeling so much and doesn’t know what to do with it. Well, that’s something she can relate to...

When he brings their kiss to a gradual close, he rests his forehead against hers, a little smile on his lips. “I like this,” he breathes like he's giving a confession. “Being here with you like this.”

She nods, smiling. “I like it, too. A lot.”

The smile on his lips is shy, something she’s never seen on him before...and she likes that, too. It makes him look younger, like he did in his sleep this morning, and happy. She loves seeing Lucifer genuinely happy and the knowledge that she had something to do with it makes her heart do that flipping thing.

Reluctantly, it seems, he backs away from her, sliding his hand from her face down her arm to hold her hand. “I assume you have to go home to care for your offspring?”

“Trix is with Dan until tomorrow.” Something flashes in his eyes that she can’t identify. And she realizes she’s been here with him for close to eighteen hours, and it’s a Saturday night. He might need to host at Lux. Then again, he was planning on leaving for Vegas yesterday... “Did you want me to leave?”

“No,” he says hastily, then looks sheepish for answering so quickly. “I mean, unless you want to leave, of course, I would never force you to stay.” But the look in his eyes says he really doesn’t want her to go. There’s even a flicker of fear that she can’t immediately account for.

Until she remembers the ninety-two interviews she did (“It was a rad night/morning/afternoon, but that was it...”) and realizes he’s used to people enjoying him for a few hours, leaving, and never being seen again. And he’s afraid that’s going to happen with her, despite her reassurances she isn’t going anywhere. She supposes it will take time for him to adjust to habits of an eternity.

“I don’t want to leave,” she admits.

Lucifer looks at her first with disbelief, then it transitions, slowly, to amazement. “Really?” She nods and he beams at her, his entire expression lighting up. “Well, then...whatever shall we do with our time, Detective?” His fingers are already wandering, giving her an idea of what he thinks they should do with their time.

But Chloe is starting to feel the last several rounds and can’t help shifting a bit uncomfortably on the bench. “Actually, I’m a bit, um...”

He cocks his head as he studies her for a moment, then a smug expression appears on his face. “Oh, feeling a bit overused, are we? Well, we can’t have that.” He thinks for a moment. “How would you feel about an evening at Lux, then? I should probably pop in and let them know I’ve not left. I know it isn’t your usual forte, but it could be the perfect opportunity to announce to the L.A. party scene that the Devil is off the market, as it were.” She must make a face at that last proclamation, because his eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“You want to tell everyone you’re off the market?” The idea both excites her and warms her.

He looks at her uncertainly. “Well, I...rather thought that I was...?” His face falls. “Unless that isn’t what you want, after all, Detective. I would understand fully, of course—”

Chloe places a hand over his mouth to stop him. “It is what I want. I guess I’m just still a little surprised you want to give all that up just for me.”

Blinking at her a few times, he laughs slightly. “Well, of course I do, Detective. And I wouldn’t say I’m giving up anything; to be honest; it more feels as if I’m gaining everything.”

Okay, seriously, is this really the same man who spent a year propositioning her for sex? Then again, she’s seen glimpses of this side of him every so often; it’s why she started falling for him in the first place. “Well, in that case...” she says, fighting her blush.

“So, you’ll join me at Lux?” he asks with boyish hope.

“I mean, I don’t really have anything to wear and I’m not wearing more of your overnight guests’ cast-offs again,” she says.

He waves that off. “That is easily solved, Detective. I can have something here for you within the hour.” Then he gives her a puppy dog look that’s on par with Trixie’s.

“You don’t have to buy me an outfit, Lucifer, I have stuff at home.”

“Yes, but then you would have to go home to retrieve it,” he argues reasonably. And, well, he does have a point there. “Come on, Detective, you know you want to...”

Chloe rolls her eyes, suppressing a smile. While nightclubs aren’t usually her thing, especially on busy Saturday nights, she doesn’t mind Lux so much. Part of it is the comfortable, safe atmosphere Lucifer has created for his patrons, but mostly, it’s Lucifer himself. He has this way of helping her let go of Responsible Chloe for a few hours—a memory of the Lux sit-in pops into her mind.

One of the reasons she didn’t like coming to Lux in the past was watching half-naked people hanging all over her partner—and her partner being perfectly happy having them there. Now, though, he’ll be with her, and she finds that makes all the difference in her reluctance.

“Okay, fine, you convinced me, put away the tempting Devil face. But,” she adds quickly when he looks at her with unfettered excitement, “just this once...with the dress thing, I mean. Don’t go spending your money on me; that isn’t the reason I want to be with you. I just want you.”

Again, he doesn’t look as if he knows what to do with that statement, so used to people wanting what he can provide for them rather than him. “Very well,” he agrees softly, leaning forward to kiss her. Humming happily against her lips, he smiles. “You won’t regret it, Detective, you have my word.”

Then he’s off the bench with his phone to his ear before she can blink, and talking to somebody in perfect Italian. Shaking her head, Chloe checks her own phone messages, smiling at the photos from Dan and Trixie’s day at the zoo. Dan looks exhausted while Trixie looks like she’s having the time of her life with telltale chocolate smudges around her mouth.

But she’s glad her daughter is enjoying herself. Trixie had been so reluctant to leave Chloe after the trauma of the poisoning that it took Dan promising to do something fun this weekend to distract and convince her. And Chloe promising to call her every night, which she does, anyway. Trixie has been through so much in the last couple of years between the separation from Dan then the divorce, being kidnapped by Malcolm, the car accident, and now this... It’s a lot for an adult to handle, much less an eight-year-old.

Chloe makes a mental note to plan something for next weekend to do with Trixie. Maybe Lucifer can come along, too, if he wants. Both Chloe and Trixie would love that; Lucifer is a bit iffy. But if this relationship between them is going to work...well. He’ll have to get used to spending time with her kid.

It’s something for them to talk about.

For now, Lucifer is finishing up on the phone and looking pleased. “Lovely. Alejandro will have something sent for you within the hour, as promised, Detective,” he says proudly.

“You got me something totally skimpy, didn’t you?” she teases. Well, mostly teases. This is Lucifer...

“I think you’ll be perfectly satisfied with my choice, Detective. I know your styles; I’ve seen your wardrobe.” He can’t resist a shudder. She rolls her eyes. Grinning, he tucks away his phone and returns to her, bending over her to kiss her again. Now that he has permission, he’s going to be doing that a lot, she thinks. Not that she minds, but there will have to be a talk about PDA in the workplace. And in front of Trixie.

Later... she tells herself, her hands finding his narrow hips and kissing him back. For now, it’s just us...

To her complete surprise (though it probably shouldn’t be), the dress Lucifer had delivered is exactly her style. Fashionable, yet not so low-cut or short that she’ll be self-conscious. A navy blue, chiffon, A-line dress that falls to just below mid-thigh along with matching low heels. It’s something she would have bought for herself, actually. Though she’s sure this particular dress is well out of her price range (the price tag was mysteriously missing from it when Lucifer handed her the dress bag). She could only shake her head when she found a matching silk and lace bra/panties set with the dress. Of course, he would think of that...

Though she suggested they shower separately, Lucifer talked her into the opposite with, “but it will save time and conserve water, Detective!” Spoiler alert: It did neither. Once he had her naked in the stall with the water running, it quickly turned into round...she stopped counting a while ago.

Afterwards, though, while she was still catching her breath, he sweetly went about washing her hair and body (the latter with only a few stray touches). Then, after their joint shower, he left her to get ready and went off to a guest bathroom; she didn’t know he had guest bathrooms. Or bedrooms. She really needs him to give her a tour of this penthouse at some point.

We’ll end up having sex in every room, she thinks wryly with a grin as she finishes her makeup.

Her hair is down and wavy, and her makeup is simple. But as she takes a step back to look into the full-length mirror...her jaw drops. She looks good, and she can’t wait to see Lucifer’s reaction. She’s a bit nervous, just because she knows all eyes are going to be on her at Lux for the simple reason that she’s with Lucifer. Even when she comes to Lux for a case, she gets jealous looks thrown at her because she’s monopolizing his time—and always feels a little flare of triumph with each and every one.

Now, though, it’s different, because she and Lucifer are together-together. Not just work partners. He (hopefully) isn’t going to be flirting or even looking at anybody but her tonight—or any other night, if she has her way. Chloe has never been particularly possessive about her significant others, but at the same time, she doesn’t like to share. And something tells her that feeling will be exponentially stronger with Lucifer.

With one last glance at the mirror, she heads out of the bathroom, internally shaking her head as always at his ridiculously insane closet that is bigger than her bedroom, and goes in search of her partner. He’s at the bar, pouring himself a drink, with his back to her. He must sense her, because he offers her one, as well.

“A drink before we head to Lux, Detective?” he asks without turning around.

“Sure,” she agrees easily. Why not, she’s not driving tonight...

He can see a hint of his smile in the mirror behind the liquor bottles. “I hope you’re ready for...” Lucifer trails off, turning around with two glasses in his hand. His eyes land on her immediately and he just...stares. Like his brain has shut down completely. His mouth falls open and his eyes go wide as he thoroughly scans her from head to toe, lingering a little longer on her legs. She hasn’t forgotten what he said about being a leg man.

“Chloe...” he says, his voice little more than a throaty whisper. “You look...”

She can’t stifle her smirk at the look on his face or the shiver at the heat in his eyes as she approaches him, plucking one of the glasses from his hand and bringing it to her lips. “Nice?” she suggests.

He shakes his head slowly, like he’s trying to clear the cobwebs. “I was going to say stunning,” he croaks, still looking. He clears his throat. “Delectable. Striking...”

She’s checking him out, too, in his dark gray suit with a shirt that matches the color of her dress perfectly. His hair and scruff are immaculate as ever—which is a bit of a shame; she likes the curls...a lot—and his eyeliner is on point. “Hmm... You look pretty good, too...” He looks handsome as ever; beautiful, even.

“Well, of course, I do, Detective. I’m me,” he says cockily with a smug smirk. Wrapping his now free arm around her waist, he pulls her close, nuzzling his nose against hers then kissing the corner of her mouth. “Lux won’t know what hit it tonight between the two of us.”

Turning her face, she captures his lips in a brief kiss. When she pulls back, he chases her, then pouts when she denies him with a grin and headshake. “If we start that, we won’t leave the penthouse,” she tells him, pecking him on the chin.

“I see no flaws in this plan, Detective,” he says seriously.

“You’re the one who wanted to go to Lux, Lucifer.”

“And being the impulsive Devil that I am, I’m now amending that plan to ‘doing you,’ instead,” he says, his grin all charm.

She shakes her head, biting back a laugh. “Nope. I went through the trouble of getting dressed up; we’re going to Lux.”

The big, bad, impulsive Devil actually whines. “But, Detective...”

Brushing her hand down his chest, because she can’t resist him anymore than he can her, she shakes her head again. “Later.”

His eyes light up with delight. “Is that a promise?” he asks huskily.

Winking, she finishes off the whiskey in her glass—he really is spoiling her with his extravagance. “If you behave,” she teases.

Licking his lips, he looks her up and down again. “Where’s the fun in that, Detective?”

They do actually make it into the elevator, but that’s where his ‘good’ behavior ends. Fingers in her hair, he has her pressed up against the wall, cupping her skull protectively, and he’s kissing her feverishly. She slides her hands beneath his jacket, hooking her fingers through his belt loops to hold him close. The little, involuntary sounds he makes shoot sparks throughout her body and she’s suddenly regretting the decision to be stubborn.

“You smell good,” he breathes against her neck when he travels away from her mouth.

“I smell like you,” she says, her voice a bit shaky. She doesn’t have any of her usual bath products here, so she’s been using Lucifer’s when they’ve showered.

He smirks into her skin. “You smell good,” he repeats, making her laugh. Unfortunately, he pulls away before the doors open to smile at her. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says sweetly, scuffing his thumb below her bottom lip.

She tilts her head down to kiss the pad. “So am I,” she says honestly.

“I don’t just mean here here, but...” He turns serious suddenly, pain flashing through his eyes. “I thought I was going to lose you. First to the poison, then to...well, me. But the former...” He looks away, his jaw tensing.

She remembers what he told her about how when she dies and goes to Heaven, he’ll never be able to follow. “Hey,” she says softly, reaching up to turn him back to her. “I’m okay, Lucifer. You made sure of it. If I haven’t said so yet, thank you.”

He gives her a half-smile. “You’re most welcome. My apologies, I didn’t mean for this to be so...morose.”

She shakes her head. “No, I get it. I’m still working through that, too.”

The last year has been filled with so many moments where her life has been in jeopardy, and she hasn’t really faced her own mortality before that. Even when her father died, she was focused on her pain and grief, and didn’t give much thought to her own death. But she came so close recently, could feel herself fading as the poison coursed through her body, and she hasn’t really let herself think about it. She prefers to box it all up, shove it to the back of her mind, and never think of it again.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to see a therapist. Linda could probably give her a recommendation...

“Well, if you desire someone to talk to, then I am more than willing to lend an ear,” Lucifer says kindly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “As one who has faced his own mortality, more than once, I know it isn’t always easy.”

Blinking against her watering eyes, Chloe gives him a smile. “Thank you, Lucifer.”

“Now, however, it’s time for fun, yes?” He says it just in time for the elevators to open with a ding that’s drowned out by blaring music.

Chloe fixes his jacket from where she bunched it up a little. “Let’s dance, Satan.”

Laughing, Lucifer leads her out of the elevator and into Lux.

Chapter Text

The Devil’s nightclub is in full swing when they step out. Lucifer immediately reaches for Chloe’s arm, tucking it into his and beams down at her when she tries to resist a smile. It’s impossible, though, because...well. He’s ridiculous.

Music plays loudly through the speakers, but to her surprise, not too loud to hold a conversation. Faintly, she wonders if Lucifer asked them to turn down the volume so they don’t have to shout at one another to be heard. Either way, she appreciates it; her bones feel less...jarred than they would on a typical night. People dressed in their partying best mill about, talking and drinking—or in some cases, making out in dark corners—and there’s a group of women who seem to be lingering near the elevator, their eyes darting in its direction every couple of seconds. Chloe doesn’t need two guesses to figure out who they’re looking for.

Especially not when their attention is fully on her and Lucifer—well, Lucifer, anyway—their gazes dark and hungry. Chloe is sure she sees one of the women actually lick her lips at the sight of him. For his part, Lucifer doesn’t seem to notice them at all; in fact, his eyes keep glancing down at her, as if checking whether she’s okay.

“Hi, Lucifer,” one of the bolder women says, coming right up to him and running a hand down his arm. He stiffens and subtly pulls away from her touch; she probably didn’t even notice. “We were just talking about you...”

If Chloe didn’t know any better, she’d say Lucifer looks uncomfortable. “Ah, yes, hello, Stephanie,” he says, giving her a polite smile.

Chloe has an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu, from the night with Jana. How her heart dropped to her stomach because Lucifer knew the name of the woman boldly stripping in front of them. And he knows this woman’s name, too. Which means he probably has a history with her just as he did with Jana and countless other women—and men, for that matter.

“I was thinking we could get a drink?” Stephanie says hopefully.

Chloe may as well not exist for all this woman is concerned. Her jaw tenses and she pretends not to feel a flare of jealousy. Or maybe it’s possessiveness. Both?

“Actually, I’m taken for the evening, but I’m sure there are several other gentlemen who would be willing to entertain you?” Lucifer says smoothly, leaning more into Chloe.

Stephanie looks putout and annoyed, and manages to send Chloe a glare, all in one look. “Are you sure? We had so much fun last time...” Well, there’s that confirmed.

“Quite sure, thank you,” Lucifer says firmly. “In fact, I’m no longer entertaining privately; I’m a taken Devil now. So I’m afraid you’ll have to find another form of fun that doesn't include me.”

The other woman stares at him for a moment, clearly not comprehending his words. “Taken? But...you’re Lucifer Morningstar.”

“I am, yes,” he says pleasantly.

“But you’re, like, the biggest slut in L.A.,” she protests.

Lucifer starts to respond, but Chloe beats him to it. “And now he’s telling you he’s off the market, so go find somebody else to get your rocks off with; he’s taken,” she says firmly. She can feel Lucifer’s eyes on her, but she’s busy glaring at Stephanie.

It pisses her off; Lucifer is so much more than some meaningless one-night stand, and yet, people can’t seem to see past that. She knows it’s partly due to the persona Lucifer projects, and probably what he told her last night about his desire mojo, but still... He deserves to be treated with dignity and respect the same as anybody else—except perhaps Stephanie at the moment—and Chloe isn’t going to stand by and watch anyone treat him as anything less.

Stephanie scoffs, sneering at Chloe as she looks the Detective up and down. “Whatever, he wasn’t that good, anyway,” she huffs in a clear lie, turning to walk back to her friends.

Chloe assumes that will be the end of that confrontation, but when she starts for the stairs, Lucifer pulls her back. Before she can ask what’s wrong, his hand is on her cheek again, angling her for a kiss that makes her toes curl in her shoes. “What was that for?” she asks breathlessly when he pulls away.

Gratitude and awe shine in his eyes, and a soft smile is on his lips. “I didn’t realize you were so possessive, Detective,” he says, and he couldn’t possibly sound happier about that.

She feels her face flush with heat. “Yeah, well, I didn’t like the way she was talking about you,” she mutters.

“Oh, it wasn’t a criticism, darling,” he assures her. “That little display was incredibly alluring.” He leans towards her slightly. “And arousing.” His eyes dart down between them and hers automatically follow, showing her exactly how much he enjoyed her staking a claim on him. “Do feel free to repeat it anytime you feel the need.”

The heat from her face rushes south. “I’ll consider it,” she says flippantly. “So, are you going to buy me a drink?”

He scoffs. “I was going to ask you to buy me one, Detective,” he says, smirking.

“You own the club.”

“Yes, and you drink for free,” he counters easily, leading her through the throng of people towards the stairs. He’s distracting her just enough that she barely notices people staring at them—at her—after the show outside the elevator. “And that is a very short list at which you happen to be at the top, I’ll have you know.”

Chloe presses her lips together against a smile. “So, I should be honored?”

“Indeed. Especially when the company is so delightfully dashing as myself,” he says with a smirk.

They banter all the way over to the bar and it could be any normal evening that Chloe comes to visit Lucifer in Lux. She was a little worried that the change in their relationship would mean they lose this side of their partnership—their friendship. So far, though, the only real change is that Lucifer is a little more willing to open up now. Well, and they kiss and have sex, too. But the ease is still there between them. It’s a relief.

“What would you like to drink, Detective?” Lucifer murmurs directly into her ear, for seemingly no other reason than he can.

She blinks out of her daze. Having him nearby is bringing back memories from this afternoon. And this morning. And last night. His scent—sandalwood, vanilla, and something that is uniquely Lucifer—surrounds her. And feeling the backs of his fingers brushing lightly down her arm isn’t helping, either.

“Um, whatever you’re having is good,” she says with as much dignity as she can manage. Which isn’t much.

Lucifer’s lips twitch, like he knows what she’s thinking. Of course, he does, the bastard... “Two whiskeys, Patrick. The Macallan, if you would. Good man.”

Drinks in hand, he leads her down to his usual booth near the piano and they sit, their thighs and sides pressing together. Lucifer’s arm is stretched out over the back, just the tips of his fingers grazing her skin as he scans the dance floor as if by habit, then he turns back to Chloe with that soft smile again.

She nods towards the piano. “Are you playing tonight?”

“I thought I might,” he says. “That all right with you?”

“Of course. I love watching you play.”

He blinks at her, surprised. “You do?”

How does he not know that? She sat next to him for nearly an hour today listening to him play. And it wasn’t the first time, either. She still remembers the first time she heard him play, right after their first case when she was trying to figure him out and she failed in her recon mission—he knew she was there the entire time. It caught her attention, because she wouldn’t have thought someone like him could play so beautifully. Then, after Father Frank was killed, they played Heart and Soul together, and afterwards, he played for her. She’s spent more time than she cares to admit staring at his long, talented fingers, her thoughts drifting to more...inappropriate places. Of course, now she knows just how talented those fingers are...

“Lucifer, you play beautifully,” she says earnestly to his stunned expression. “And your singing voice...”

He gives her a crooked grin. “The voice of an angel?” he quips.

She laughs. “Yes, exactly.”

“Well, in that case...” He leans in to kiss her (too) briefly then gets to his feet. “I’ll play for you now, Detective.”

Most likely, she should have heard his intentions and protested, but she’s too distracted by the dazzling grin he sends her as he waltzes to the piano. There’s some subtle signal to the DJ to lower the volume on the music and a microphone descends from the ceiling as he sits down on the bench. Chloe smiles as he introduces himself and gets the crowd hyped in a way that isn’t cheesy. She’s so distracted by his fingers already as they adjust the cufflinks on his sleeve that she doesn’t hear the entirety of what he’s saying

“...edicate this performance to my stunning partner, Chloe Decker,” he’s saying, sending her a grin. “Who, incidentally, has taken this Devil permanently off the menu. She’s a bit shy, so do give her a warm, raucous welcome.”

Chloe’s eyes widen and she’s sure her face is beet red as she tries to sink into the booth. Around her, people are craning their necks to look at her and applauding and cheering. She glares at Lucifer, who is completely unaffected; he winks at her.

‘I’m so going to kill you,’ she mouths at him.

Lucifer runs his tongue along his teeth and waggles his eyebrows at her, then flexes his fingers and starts to play.

Spending so much time together on cases means a lot of time driving around Los Angeles and the occasional disagreement about what to listen to on the radio. A while back, Chloe suggested they alternate days on who gets to choose the music. Lucifer has spent months teasing her about her mediocre tastes—she tends to lean towards 90s-era music. But at the same time, she’s caught him singing along to several of her favorite songs, so maybe it shouldn’t surprise her so much that that’s what he’s playing tonight: A medley of her favorites. And not once does he take his eyes off her.

When he starts singing Eternal Flame, Chloe can keep herself from smiling back any longer, or shaking her head, because he’s so ridiculous. And she is ridiculously in love with him.

Maybe it should feel too soon to make that declaration—and maybe it is...out loud. But these feelings for Lucifer have been building up for months, growing and evolving. There’s always been this undercurrent of low-grade want between them that Chloe has refused to acknowledge, because they were just too different and wanted different things from life. He wanted someone new every night; she wanted a partner.

Well, she thought that’s what he wanted; he never hinted that he might want more than what he had, at least not until last week on the beach. (Was it really only last week?) Or perhaps, he didn’t even entirely know what he really wanted—what he desired.

So she’s more than willing to put up with a little bit of ridiculousness if she gets all of him in return.

She claps along with the rest of Lux as Lucifer finishes his piano set and stands to bow for his adoring crowd then brushes off the ones who try to press in on him. He’s laser-focused on Chloe Decker and not letting anyone stand in his way. The music is turned back on and somebody moves the piano away to make room on the floor as he returns to her.

“I thought 90s music was ‘mediocre and trite, Detective’?” she asks, imitating his voice when he elegantly plops down beside her and reaches for his drink.

He snorts a laugh into his glass and she bites back a smile in triumph. “Oh, it is. But you enjoy it, Detective, so I suppose it has its merits,” he counters smoothly, leaning in to nuzzle her neck. “Did you enjoy?”

While she tries to think of something witty to say, he’s dropping tiny kisses along her skin. Her brain turns to static. “Mm-hmm,” she manages to get out, feeling his smirk. She clears her throat. “Well, I wasn’t thrilled with your little introduction...”

“Nothing little about me, Detective, something to which you can now attest,” he murmurs, kissing his way along her neck still. “I thought an announcement would save the trouble of you getting into a cat fight with anybody trying to sink their claws into me. Although...” He pops his head up, tilting it in thought as he eyes her appreciatively. “That also has its merits.”

Chloe rolls her eyes through a laugh. They watch for a few minutes as the dance floor fills with pairs of people, moving to the beat of the music. Then Lucifer turns to her, his fingers toying with the ends of her hair.

“Will you dance with me, Detective?”

She hesitates only because she isn’t the best dancer, but then she recalls dancing with Lucifer not so long ago and how much fun it was. She smiles. “I will.”

Finishing off her drink, she sets it alongside his empty glass. Smiling like she’s made his week, he climbs to his feet and holds out a hand for her, closing his fingers around hers to help her up.

“Hope you don’t mind me stepping on your toes, though,” she jokes as he leads her to the dance floor.

Lucifer shoots her a leering smile. “Detective, you may step on any part of me you desire, any time you desire.”

Shaking her head, she lets him pull her into his arms and guide her. They start out the way they did last time—a fast-paced swing that takes up a quarter of the floor and somehow still matches the beat of the music. She can feel Lucifer’s smile against her head and her own matches it. There’s just something...thrilling about dancing in his arms, and she hopes that she never gets enough of it.

After the last few days, this is definitely what she needs, she thinks: Just having fun without having to think. It doesn’t matter that Lucifer is the Devil and she’s a single mom with a demanding, dangerous job; right now, they’re just two people who care about each other (a lot) and want to see what the future brings, together. Her laughter is carefree as he spins her around and twirls her under his arm. His smile is wide and boyish, eyes sparkling with happiness like the stars themselves. He’s never looked more beautiful to her.

Then, at some point, the music changes from typical club music to something slower, more sultry. Lucifer’s arms wrap around her waist, hers around his neck, their cheeks pressed together. His hands start to wander while she plays with the hairs at his nape. Fingers spread wide across her ass while his other hand finds her hip, pulling her even closer. She turns her head slightly, enough to kiss the spot beneath his jaw that makes him shiver. Lucifer sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening into her.

The hum that falls from his lips is low and throaty, not quite a moan but close. “I’ve wanted to dance with you like this for some time, Detective,” he murmurs near her ear, his tongue darting out to tease the shell.

“Oh, yeah?” She’s proud of the way she manages to get that out—and of sounding unaffected.

“Yes. You’ve yet to see all my moves and I’ve been simply dying to show you.”

She smiles, backing away to meet his dark gaze. “Show me what you’ve got, then.”

His eyes light up at the challenge and his smile is downright sinful. “As you wish, Chloe,” he purrs deliberately. He must know what the sound of her name off his tongue does to her—a shiver runs down her spine. His smile widens. “Are you cold, darling?”

She’s not and he knows that, too. Unable to come up with a response, she kisses him, weaving her fingers into his hair. It’s surprisingly soft, even with whatever product he uses to style it, and she’s pretty sure she’s developing a slight obsession with it. He doesn’t mind in the slightest that she teases it free of its usual perfection, pressing his head into her hand and silently asking for more. She obliges.

Lucifer doesn’t hesitate to respond to her kiss, either, teasing open her lips with his tongue and diving straight in. One of his hands spreads wide across the small of her back while the other slides down over her ass again—he shamelessly squeezes it—then to her thigh. Fingers start to pull up the hem of her dress, yet she doesn’t feel exposed and he’s careful to avoid that. Those fingers move just high enough to tease her inner thigh and she involuntarily bucks forward where she can feel what being close to her does to him.

He does groan this time, shifting to press his thigh between both of hers, giving her something to move against. His hands fall to her hips, keeping her in rhythm to the music while his tongue does impossibly delightful things to her mouth.

Then he tears his mouth from hers and he turns her so her back is to his chest, lips returning to her neck, kissing down along the line of her shoulder. The hand that was on her back is now low on her front, fingers splayed so his thumb brushes the underside of her breasts. His other hand is back on her thigh below her dress and the way he moves is pure, liquid sex.

In the past, she was never comfortable with this sort of dancing—she’s a private person by nature and there are just some things she won’t do in public. During her acting days, it was because she didn’t want to end up on the front of some trashy tabloid; that stayed with her throughout her twenties, then she was a cop, a wife, and a mother. Respectable, responsible Chloe Decker.

But here in Lux, with Lucifer... Even this feels different. There are people pressing in close on all sides, though it feels like there’s a boundary between them and the others, and they’re all doing exactly what Chloe and Lucifer are. With the low, flashing lights, she doubts anyone can even see where his hand is unless they were looking. And Lucifer has a way of making her forget herself. To get her to live in the moment. And she intends to do so tonight, at the very least.

She pushes back into him, curling her arm behind his head and twisting his hair between her fingers as she moves against him, with him. He curls over her, his larger frame dwarfing hers in the best way.

“Well, well, Detective,” he purrs into her ear. Another shiver runs through her. “Moves that make the Devil blush, indeed.”

Turning towards him, she gives her best sultry smile. His eyes darken, so it must work. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

She can feel his heart quicken against her back. “Show me what you’ve got, then,” he says, repeating her previous words.

She does. Crashing her lips against his, she tightens her fingers in his hair and grinds back into him. Technically, they’re still dancing, moving to the beat, but the music and people around them could have vanished for all she’s aware of any of it. Everyone thinks she’s this repressed prude who wouldn’t know fun or seduction if it slapped her in the face—and sometimes that might even be true.

The difference now is that the man at her back is her partner and her best friend—and now, her something more. One-night stands never felt right to her, but she enjoys sex as much as the next person—with the right person. There has to be a connection before she can let go and be herself; and she’s had that connection with Lucifer for months, whether she was willing to admit it or not.

He growls into her mouth, the hand on her belly moving lower, brushing against the heat between her legs; the other grasping her jaw to hold her in place. “It’s dangerous to tease the Devil, Chloe,” he says darkly. It might have more of an effect on her if he didn’t look completely wrecked right now.

“I think I’ll take my chances,” she murmurs, taking his bottom lip between her teeth and tugging.

The sound he makes is inhuman, animalistic, almost, and shoots straight to the apex of her thighs. Spinning her around to face him again, his fingers slide into her hair, gripping but not tightly enough to hurt, and his other hand is on her ass, pulling her roughly against him. Chloe wraps her arms around his neck, managing to keep up with his feverish kiss and the way he moves against her.

“Shall we take this to the penthouse?” he breathes hotly into her skin, licking and nipping his way across her jawline to her ear.

“Don’t wanna wait that long,” she pants, her lips finding his neck.

His fingers tighten briefly in her hair, and he pulls away just enough to study her with a slightly furrowed brow. Then a small smirk appears on his lips and his eyes light up with heat. “Follow me.”

Lucifer backs away and she immediately feels colder without the heat of his body surrounding her. His fingertips slide down her arm, entwining their fingers, and turns without a word, leading her through the throng of dancers who seem to instinctively part for them. She has no idea where he’s taking her and doesn’t have the brain power to ask, since all her blood has rushed south, but she trusts him. When it mattered, he’s never steered her wrong.

They head down a corridor she’s noticed before but never thought about, to a door at the end marked Staff Only. He grabs the doorknob and there’s a faint click, then he’s pushing the door open with his shoulder, pulling her inside behind him. A moment later, he pushes her against it, reaching down behind her to lock it again, then he’s kissing her rabidly.

Chloe grips his sides, bunching his shirt in her hands and matches his intensity. He shoves his thigh between her legs again and presses up against her, lifting her to her tiptoes. One hand on her hip moves her along his muscled leg to provide the friction she didn’t realize she desperately needed, and the other is spread around her neck—not gripping, just touching.

“The things you do to me, Chloe,” he breathes, sounding utterly wrecked. “Not a day has passed since we met that I don’t think about you—about the things I want to do with you...to you. I never thought...” He trails off, kissing her again.

It takes a moment, but she asks, “Never thought, what?”

Tearing his lips from hers, he rests his forehead against hers, cupping her cheek tenderly, which is surprising, given what he was just doing to her. “Never thought I could have this,” he whispers. He opens his eyes and the intensity in them stuns her momentarily. “That I could have you. In all my exceedingly long life, I never imagined it could...be like this. I don’t ever want to let you go.”

“Lucifer...” she murmurs, one of her hands cupping his face in return.

He shakes his head, silently asking for a moment. “I’ve never wanted like this, Chloe,” he says seriously. “And that terrifies me—the things I would do for you. Have done for you. I’ll do anything. Just stay with me.” His expression is a combination of pleading, desperation, fear, and uncertainty. “Please, Chloe.”

She nods, pressing her lips to his in affirmation. “I’m not going anywhere, Lucifer. I promise.”

His eyes dart between both of hers intently, like he’s searching for any signs of deception or uncertainty, and the relief in his own when he finds neither is heartbreaking. She might not know much about his life, but from what she’s worked out just through knowing him in the last year, he’s spent a long time alone—and being lonely. Hell is a bit of a mystery to her, but she knows Maze, and she isn’t exactly the most...affectionate person Chloe has ever met; she can’t imagine other demons are any better.

How long has Lucifer been searching for a connection—a real connection—with somebody, only to find people want him for what he can provide them? How long has he wanted acceptance and to be loved, or even just cared for? She doesn’t know if she can make up for all that lost time, but she can give him that going forward, for however long he lets her.

The words fall from her lips without her express permission. She told herself she’d wait a little longer, to at least let him get used to somebody knowing the truth about him and not running, if not longer to be in a relationship. But they’ve been true for longer than even she’s aware, and they won’t be held back any longer.

“I love you, Lucifer.”

For a moment, he stares at her as though he’s never heard those words directed towards him before—not once. She hopes that isn’t the case, but suspects it may well be. Then his lips part in surprise and his eyes turn bright and suspiciously glistening. “You...what?” he breathes weakly.

Giving him a soft smile, both of her hands cradling his face and her thumbs stroking lightly at his temples, she repeats it. “I love you.”

A soft laugh of disbelief and amazement falls from his own lips. “Really?” he asks, his voice breaking slightly.

Biting her lip, she nods. “I think I have for a while,” she confirms.

“Chloe...” He sucks in a shuddering breath like it’s life itself and looks at her with reverence and wonder. “I...” He trails off again, then huffs in frustration, his jaw tightening.

“You don’t have to say it back,” she says quickly. “I know it’s probably too soon to say it, and I didn’t say it because I expect a response; I just needed you to know. I’m not going anywhere, Lucifer,” she adds again, because she thinks he needs to hear that. And often.

He swallows, his mouth opening and closing a few times soundlessly. “I’ve never...”

“I know,” she says. “It’s okay. Take whatever time you need. Whenever you’re ready to say it, if you’re ever ready to say it, then I’ll be here to hear it.”

Looking overwhelmed, Lucifer gives a faint nod, then kisses her ardently. Honestly, she doesn’t need to hear the words from him right now; she can feel it in the way he kisses her and touches her. She heard it when he was telling her stories from their partnership—the parts she’s never heard—and all the things he’s done for her. It’s in the way he looks at her.

But this, especially, is the way he communicates, the language he’s most fluent in, and even if he doesn’t recognize what he’s feeling as love, she does. And that’s enough.

His hands fall from her face to the hem of her dress, slowly pushing it up. In response, Chloe pulls his shirt from where it's tucked into his pants so she can feel his bare skin. Lightly, she drags her fingernails along his sides and he groans, kissing her harder. Long, talented fingers find her soaking panties, which makes him growl, the sound more a low rumble in his chest—which is really all manner of sexy—and he expertly locates her clit, having already learned how she likes to be touched.

She gasps into his mouth and he moves away, kissing along her cheek, down her neck. One of her hands slides down his abs to the bulge below his belt, fingers wrapping around him. He bites out a tight curse and touches her more firmly.

It’s not enough, though, so she pulls his belt free and deftly unbuttons him, then pulls down the zipper for unfettered access. When her hand wraps around hot flesh, he gasps, his fingers faltering slightly before moving to the edge of her panties and pulls the lace aside so he can touch her properly.

For several minutes, they just touch each other, working the other up even further. At least, until Lucifer gets fed up with her panties being in the way and rips them to shreds. She’d protest, but aside from that being hot, he paid for them...

Tossing aside the shreds (she makes a mental note to pick them up later), he returns to her, sinking his fingers into her. Then he smirks. “And just how long have you been this wet, Detective?” he asks in a low, husky voice that makes her shiver. Faintly, she realizes she’s going to have difficulty not reacting to her title when they return to work; right now, she doesn’t care. Not when he’s doing this to her. “Hmm? Since we came in here? Since our dance? Tell me...”

Briefly, she considers some flippant response, but the look in his eyes compels her. His mojo might not work on her, but she is far from unaffected by him. “Since I was getting dressed and imagined your reaction to how I looked,” she confesses.

He slams a hand against the door and though she doesn’t look, she wonders if there’s a handprint in the metal from the protesting sound it made. “Fuck, Chloe,” he breathes, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I need to be inside you...”

She can’t argue with that... She nods jerkily.

Eyes flaring in triumph, he pulls away enough so he can wrap his hands around her thighs and lifts her, pressing his body against hers. He kisses her again while one of her hands wedges between them to find his cock to line them up, and he doesn’t hesitate. As soon as he’s in position, he pulls her down onto him, as deeply as he can go, and they both cry out at the sudden sensation. Though he gives her a moment to adjust, the moment he gets the go-ahead, he’s moving.

The last several times they’ve done this since last night, he’s been tender and sweet, playful, even; now, he’s pure need, setting an almost punishing pace with one hand at her hip and the other wrapping her hair in a ponytail. His mouth matches what his hips are doing and she’s completely lost to sensation. Of the way he moves and smells; the way he feels inside her and around her; just him.

Lucifer.

He groans; she must have said his name aloud. “Say it again,” he pants against her cheek.

“Lucifer,” she gasps.

He’s pounding her into the door hard enough that it’s protesting behind her, and some part of her mind recognizes that they aren’t exactly being quiet—anyone walking past the door will know what’s happening in here. She doesn’t care, even if she should. Can’t care, because there’s only her and there’s only Lucifer, and there’s only this.

“You feel divine,” he groans into her ear. “Don’t want anything but this for eternity...” She whimpers in response to his words. “My Detective.”

Nodding fervently into his shoulder, she tightens around him. “Yours,” she pants.

He falters, tugging her head back gently so he can search her face. “You mean that?” he asks in a small, hopeful voice. “It’s not just...” He makes a vague gesture at where they’re connected.

“I mean it,” she promises. And she does. She’s been his for...she doesn’t know how long. “If you want me, I’m yours, Lucifer.”

“Always wanted you,” he says with a shaky smile. When he kisses her again, it’s that slow, sweet kiss, even as his hips continue their previous pacing. “Always going to want you.”

“I’m close,” she whimpers.

He nods. “Me, too. Just a little longer, Detective...” His thrusts increase and his hand slips between them, fingers finding her clit to rub hard, fast circles, pushing her up and over the edge. She bites down on his shoulder to muffle her scream at the intense orgasm that washes over her. He holds her close, hips faltering, then after a few more thrusts, he’s coming right along with her. “Chloe!”

When her vision clears, his face is buried in the crook of her neck as he whimpers and whines and shakes. She strokes his hair and back between his scars, soothing him. Lifting his head, he looks dazed but content, and he kisses her with enough tenderness it makes her eyes sting.

“That was...” She can’t find the appropriate word to describe it.

But he seems to be in agreement. “Indeed,” he sighs, brow furrowed as he looks at her. “It’s never been like this.” By ‘it’ she assumes he means sex.

“It’s different when it’s with someone you really care about,” she tells him gently, well aware they’re still connected. “It’s...more.” Linda could probably better explain it to him, but she feels like she needs to give him something. “And you and I...we’ve always had this connection. That’s what makes it special.”

He nods slowly as he processes what she’s said, then swallows hard. He doesn’t seem to have words, so he falls back on what he does know: Glancing down between them, with a mischievous smirk, he quips, “Well, we’re certainly connected now, aren’t we?”

Rolling her eyes fondly, Chloe leans in to kiss him. “You know what I mean.”

His expression softens and he nods. “I think I do,” he murmurs. He shifts slightly and she winces at the slight discomfort. “Oh, forgive me, darling. Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we? Then perhaps we can take this party for two back to the penthouse?”

He sets her on her feet again and reaches into a pocket for a handkerchief that he uses to gently clean her, then rights her dress before taking care of himself. Before they leave, she makes sure to grab the shredded panties he tossed aside. Grinning, he plucks them from her fingers and shoves them into his pocket.

“What, do you collect them or something?” she asks sarcastically, really hoping the answer is no.

He scoffs. “Of course not, Detective. What, precisely, do you take me for?” He puts an arm around her shoulders and leads her back towards the club then the stairs. “But yours? I may just start...”

Chapter Text

After returning to the penthouse last night, rather than continuing where they left off, Lucifer suggested they watch a movie. He rolled a big screen TV in from elsewhere and showed her where he keeps his DVD and BluRay collection—she discovered he has three (three) copies of Hot Tub High School...because of course he does.

“Well, it’s my favorite film, Detective,” he said reasonably. Or as reasonably as Lucifer could ever sound. “I had to acquire all the versions, and the BluRay has special features the others don’t!”

She managed to talk him out of watching it, but only just. Instead, they settled on an old black and white movie she’s never seen before. Apparently, Lucifer is a big fan of the classics. They curled up on the sofa with drinks and a bowl of popcorn, and she spent more time looking over at him than she did at the movie.

It couldn’t be helped, though; something seems to have shifted in Lucifer since they were in the Lux closet. He’s...lighter somehow, happier. And she can’t help wondering if it’s because she told him she loves him. It was certainly a weight off her shoulders; she hadn’t realized how long she’s been carrying those words in her heart, aching to say them. But now something else has settled inside her. Another piece she didn’t realize was missing until she told him.

After the classic movie, they watched some ridiculous comedy he found on one of his streaming services, and she laughed more at Lucifer’s inane commentary than she did at the movie. They ended up falling asleep there on the couch, Chloe’s head on his chest over his heart, Lucifer’s arms wrapped around her and his cheek against her hair. It was the second best sleep she’s had in weeks, after the night before.

When Sunday afternoon rolls around, though, responsibility begins to set in again. Trixie is coming home this evening, which means Chloe has to return home. Lucifer tries to hide his disappointment behind understanding, but she doesn’t miss it, having learned to see behind his mask months ago.

“Maybe we can do something this week,” she suggests hopefully as they stand at the elevator. The clothes she wore over here a few nights ago have been laundered for her.

Lucifer’s arms are wound around her waist like he doesn’t intend to let her go—she knows he will, even if he really doesn’t want to. “I’d like that,” he says tentatively.

She wants to invite him back to the apartment with her now, but knows she shouldn’t. They both have things they need to do, and it would be better for it to just be her and Trixie tonight, at least. “Maybe you can come over on Tuesday night?”

“Isn’t that Taco Tuesday?”

She smiles over him knowing that. “As a matter of fact, it is,” she confirms. “Dan will probably be there, so you’ll have to temper the insults around Trixie. But after dinner we can do game night.”

“Sexy game night?” he asks hopefully.

Chloe laughs. “Well, Trixie is going to be there, so...no. Board games, Lucifer. Monopoly, Clue, The Game of Life...that sort of thing.”

“I’ve heard of literally none of those things.”

Leaning back, she looks up at him, wondering if he’s teasing her, but he has a look of bemusement in his eyes. “They’re family-friendly games.”

“That’s boring.”

Rolling her eyes, she pinches his side, smiling when he tries to squirm away from her. “Do you want to come over or not?”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “I would love to come, Detective,” he says cheekily. She gives him a look and he relents. “Yes, very well, I shall attend this game night and Taco Tuesday, if you insist.”

“No one’s insisting, you don’t have to join us if you don’t want to,” she says in a would-be dismissive tone that fails. She does want him to join them. “But Trixie is a huge part of my life, Lucifer, and if you and I are going to be together...”

His expression softens. “Yes, all right. And I’m well aware how important the little Urchin is to you, darling. I suppose she isn’t entirely intolerable,” he sniffs primly. “I know fully well you’re a package deal; your spawn is important to you, therefore she’s important to me, as well.”

Swallowing a sigh of relief, she nods. “Okay. Good. So...Tuesday?”

“Tuesday,” he agrees. There is a look of utmost reluctance in his eyes. “May I call you tonight?”

Pushing to her tiptoes, she kisses him briefly. “Of course, you can. Trix will be in bed by nine, so any time after that is perfect.”

He gives her a half-smile that doesn’t entirely meet his eyes.

She cocks her head, trying to work out his expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly. Too quickly. She watches him, waiting him out until he sighs in defeat. “I don’t want you to go.” He looks at her guiltily.

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she hugs him. “I know,” she murmurs against his chest. “Honestly, I don’t want to go, either, but I’ve been here for days and there is a ton of stuff for me to do at home. And I’m sure you have your own things to do.”

He grumbles noncommittally. “I suppose.”

“And it isn’t like we won’t see each other, Lucifer. This,” she gestures between them, “doesn’t end when I walk out the door. Or...elevator, rather.” When he stiffens, she knows she inadvertently found the real source of his reluctance. “Hey.” She curls her hands behind his head, meeting his apprehensive gaze. “We’re partners. In everything, now. Not just for the weekend, but for however long we want.”

“And if I want you forever?” he murmurs, hiding his face in her hair.

“Then I’m yours,” she says simply, repeating her words from the Lux closet last night.

He shivers in her arms. “As I’m yours,” he sighs into her hair.

“Good. But I really do have to get home. I’ll talk to you toni—”

He cuts her off with a kiss that takes the word right from her lips. Fingers in her hair and biting at her waist, he holds her tightly against him, his tongue tangling with hers in a way that really, really makes her want to stay. Fortunately (or unfortunately, she can’t decide), he brings it to a gradual close with one last peck to her nose.

“Until tonight,” he murmurs, kissing her forehead like he can’t help it. Sighing, he releases her and backs away, tucking his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her again. “Drive safely, darling. Buckle up.”

She gives him a smile, trying to blink the kiss-drunkenness from her brain. “I will.” With a wave of her fingers, she steps into the elevator. He watches her with a small smile until the doors close between them.

Sighing, she leans against the elevator wall as it takes her back to the garage where her car is parked—Lucifer had it moved from the side of the building yesterday—and thinks, I am in deep...

“Where the hell’ve you been?”

Chloe nearly jumps out of her skin at the sound of her roommate’s voice when she steps into the apartment. She thought she’d have some time before seeing Maze again to come to terms with the whole...demon thing. Apparently, not so much...

Turning around, she finds Maze at the breakfast bar with a bowl of cereal, probably with vodka instead of milk, watching her with a raised eyebrow. “What’s up with you?”

“Uh, nothing,” Chloe says, dropping her keys in the ceramic bowl on the peninsula and shedding her jacket. “I thought you were going to be out all weekend?”

Maze shrugs. “Caught my bounty early. Came back to an empty apartment. Which brings me back to my original question: ‘Where the hell’ve you been?’”

“Just...out,” Chloe says evasively, reaching for the stack of mail and sorting through it. Bills, mostly. And advertisements. “I do that. Sometimes.”

“No, you really don’t,” her roommate says suspiciously, narrowing her eyes. She tilts her head back and sniffs like a bloodhound scenting pheasant on a hunt. “And you smell like sex.” Chloe doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to Maze’s brashness. “About time. Let me guess, some boring cop?”

Briefly, she considers blowing the question off or telling Maze she isn’t talking about this with her, and while she kind of wants to keep her and Lucifer a secret for a little longer...people are going to find out. Especially if Lucifer is hanging out around the apartment more often. And Maze doesn’t like it when people keep things from her, even if they don’t involve her in any way.

Sighing, Chloe slides onto a stool across from Maze. “Actually...” she says, staring at her fingers as she braids them together. “It was Lucifer.”

The spoon clatters into the bowl, splashing cereal and...yep, vodka on the counter. “Lucifer?” Maze repeats skeptically. “Lucifer Morningstar?”

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “You know a lot of guys who call themselves Lucifer?” she deadpans.

“But I thought...” Her eyes narrow and she reaches for her phone, then scowls. “He told me he was leaving town for a while.”

“Yeah, well, he tried. I talked him out of it.” Barely. “We talked a lot, actually.”

Maze snorts. “I’m sure you did,” she says suggestively, licking her lips lewdly. “About time you took the Devil out for a spin—it’s a damn good ride.”

“I mean, it was a bit more than that,” Chloe says defensively, feeling her face heat at the reminder that her roommate slept with her maybe-boyfriend. They didn’t talk about labels, and “partners” works just as well as anything.

“Riiight,” Maze says, rolling her eyes. “Decker, I thought you’d figured out by now, that’s all he does—sex. With whoever is interested.”

“Actually, we’re...together now.”

Maze stares at her uncomprehendingly. “Together?” she repeats flatly. “What do you mean, together? As in, like, a couple?” She barks a laugh. “That would be a first.” When Chloe narrows a glare at her, she falters. “You’re saying you’re actually in a relationship,” she sneers the word like it’s something disgusting, “with Lucifer? He can barely handle friendships. Also, I can’t believe he’d actually bone you without telling you the truth!”

“What, that he’s the Devil? He did.”

The demon rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I know. He tells everyone. I meant with proof.”

Chloe nods. “So did I.”

Maze freezes. “What?” she says, her lips barely moving. “He showed you? That asshole! What the hell was he thinking after what he did to Linda?”

“I mean, I just said we’re in a relationship, so...”

“Wait. So you’re saying you’re not afraid of him?”

“Yep. That’s what I’m saying.”

“So, you know about me, then?”

Chloe sighs. “Yes, Maze,” she says, not unkindly. “I know about you, too. That you’re a...demon. You make a lot more sense now, to be honest.”

Maze hides her anxiety much better than Lucifer does, but Chloe can still see it. “We gonna have a problem, Decker?” she asks quietly.

Chloe’s eyebrows furrow. “No. Why would we?”

“Well, you know now, right? Am I going to have to find a different place to stay?”

Refraining from rolling her eyes, Chloe shakes her head. “No, Maze. We’re not going to have a problem and you don’t have to find a new place.”

“But I’m a demon.”

“Mm-hmm. And like I said, you make a lot more sense now. But I gave Lucifer the benefit of the doubt, so it’s only fair I do the same for you. As long as you don’t hurt my kid or teach her anything too inappropriate, we’re good,” Chloe says.

“Define inappropriate.”

This time, Chloe doesn’t refrain from the eye roll. “Anyway...” She slips off the stool to retrieve something to drink. “That was my post-poisoning weekend. Thank you, by the way, for helping Lucifer get the antidote for my formula.”

Maze stares at her. “I didn’t actually do anything. Well. I killed the Queen Bitch so she could go rescue him...” She narrows her eyes. “How much did Lucifer tell you?”

“Pretty much everything, I think, from the start of our partnership.”

“So, you know about the whole Miracle thing. And that you make him killable?”

Inwardly wincing at the reminder at the latter, Chloe pours a glass of juice. “Yep.”

“Shit... You’re handling this way better than Linda did. She saw his face and went catatonic. You probably didn’t even wet yourself like most humans do. Respect, Decker.”

“I mean, he only showed me his eyes.”

Maze scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Chickenshit. Him, not you. You had enough balls to still bone him afterwards.” Chloe sighs into her glass. Again, Maze scoffs. “What? Do you call it some flowery shit like ‘making love’?” She shudders.

Knowing better than to get into feelings with her roommate, Chloe turns away and opens the fridge again to see what they have. “Trix will be home around five,” she announces over her shoulder. “What do you want for dinner?”

“I vote pizza.”

“Shocker,” Chloe says under her breath. Then she curls her lip at the available options, making a mental note to add “grocery shopping” to her to-do list this week. “Fine. Hawaiian with jalapeño for you, I assume?”

“Damn straight.”

“MOMMY!”

Chloe smiles and braces herself for an armful of nine-year-old. “Hi, Monkey,” she says, closing her arms around her daughter. Instantly, any stress and worries fade away. Faintly, she realizes she gets the same feeling around Lucifer. “Did you have fun with Daddy this weekend?”

“Yeah, we went to the zoo and played games. It was fun. Are you okay, Mommy?” Trixie pulls back from the hug, eyeing her mother worriedly.

Inwardly, Chloe sighs. No kid should have to have this level of concern over their parents’ well-being. “Yes, Trixie babe, I’m totally fine.”

“Yeah, she is.” Maze’s suggestive comment comes from the couch.

Chloe carefully ignores her. “I had a quiet weekend—” Maze snorts skeptically. “—and I’m feeling much better now.”

“Good. Hi, Maze!”

Chloe is temporarily forgotten as Trixie darts around her to go say hello to the demon. She expects to feel some apprehension, because...her daughter...a literal demon...but she just smiles and turns towards Dan, who’s leaning against the door jamb, Trixie’s backpack dangling from his fingers. “Hey. Thanks for taking her this weekend,” she says, taking the bag.

“Yeah, no problem. How’re you really feeling?” Dan asks, lowering his voice.

“I really am feeling fine,” Chloe insists, a flash of annoyance flaring up; she knows Dan isn’t going to accept that answer. And sure enough...

“Chloe, you were just poisoned. You nearly died.” Thankfully, Trixie is preoccupied with the gruesome handshake she and Maze use, and Dan’s practically whispering. “You just got out of the hospital. Look, if you need me to keep Trix a little longer...”

“Dan. I’m okay. I’m a little sore—” Absolutely true; just not from the poison. “—but otherwise, everything is okay. I promise.”

He doesn’t look like he believes her, which is really annoying but nothing new. “You do look better,” he reluctantly admits. “Healthier.”

“You might even say ‘glowing’,” Maze oh-so-helpfully adds.

Chloe turns to find the demon and her daughter right behind her, the latter attached to the former’s side.

Dan nods in agreement. “Yeah, a little,” he agrees. Maze snorts a laugh. Chloe shoots her a glare. “Anyway, I gotta head out. Oh, I, uh, might not make Taco Tuesday this week; I got pulled in on a stakeout. Rain check?”

That’s actually a relief, for once; Chloe is not looking forward to her ex-husband finding out about her and Lucifer. Then again, he doesn’t have much of a leg to stand on; she hasn’t forgotten he had sex with Charlotte Richards—

Oh.

Oh...no...

Charlotte Richards. Who isn’t really Charlotte but the Goddess of All Creation—Lucifer’s mother. And she and Dan... Oh, wow... Well, Lucifer’s reaction every time Chloe suggested there was something going on with him and Charlotte suddenly makes a whole lot more sense. The revulsion and outrage.

“Chlo?” Dan says in concern.

Chloe blinks, trying to remember what they were talking about. Taco Tuesday. Right... “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine. Rain check,” she agrees.

Somehow, he suppresses the urge to ask her if she’s okay again. Either he’s learning or he doesn’t want to ask in front of their daughter. Probably the latter. “Okay, well, I’ll see you later. Trixie, I love you. Be good for Mommy.”

“Love you, too, Daddy.”

“I love you, too, Dan,” Maze says with feigned sweetness.

Dan rolls his eyes, waves, and heads out.

Chloe closes the door and turns to glare at Maze. “What?” the demon asks. “Thought you wanted me to be civil with the Douche?” Trixie giggles.

Rolling her eyes—again; can eyes sprain? —Chloe walks past them, placing an affectionate hand on her daughter’s head. “I do. And I’d like for you to not call him names in front of Trixie, too, but you don’t do that, either. Okay, Monkey, get your stuff put away. And start on your homework. We’re having pizza for dinner.”

Trixie cheers and rushes off to her room with her backpack.

“You’d think now that you’re boning the Devil, you’d be more fun,” Maze grumbles.

“Okay, can you please stop calling it that?” Chloe asks, though it’s not really a question. “And don’t talk about me and Lucifer in front of Trixie, please, either. I want to tell her myself.”

Maze sighs as though she’s been greatly inconvenienced. “Whatever. Let me know when the pizza’s here.”

Sighing to herself, Chloe places an order for pizza—Maze’s weird one and more normal toppings for herself and Trixie. As she’s finishing up, her phone dings with a text message that erases the irritation towards her roommate instantly.

Lucifer Morningstar

Today 5:12 PM
Lucifer:😈😢🚫🕵️‍♀️

Chloe:I miss you, too, Lucifer.

Lucifer:Mazikeen informed me, rather irately, that you told her about us.

Lucifer:I do hope she isn’t giving you too hard a time.

Lucifer:That’s my job now... 😉

Chloe:I can handle Maze.

Chloe:And you.

Lucifer:Oh, I am well aware of your handling skills, Detective.

Lucifer:I look forward to seeing them in action again soon. 🫳🍆

Chloe:I don’t even know how to respond to that.

Chloe:But I have to go. Trix just got home.

Chloe:Talk to you tonight? 💖

Lucifer:Give the Urchin my regards.

Lucifer:And yes, until tonight, darling.

Lucifer:😘💓

Smiling secretly like a teenager, Chloe quickly stuffs her phone into her pocket as Trixie comes running back into the room. “Dinner should be here in half an hour,” Chloe tells her daughter, staving off the question she knows is coming. “Need help with your homework.”

“I already finished it...?” Trixie tries to claim.

Chloe gives her a MomLook™. “Really? Well, grab it and I’ll look it over for you, then,” she offers, knowing it’s a lie.

Looking caught out, Trixie quickly backtracks. “I’ll just...double-check that it’s done...”

“You do that,” Chloe says, reaching out to tweak Trixie’s ponytail. “If you actually finish your homework in time, we can watch a movie after dinner.”

“Cool! So, what did you do this weekend?”

And now it’s Chloe’s turn to be caught out. “Um, I relaxed and watched some movies...listened to some music.” All technically true...

Trixie makes a face to convey how boring her mother’s weekend sounds, then finally goes off to do her homework.

After a wonderful evening with her daughter (even though Maze spent most of it making lewd, suggestive comments and innuendos that, thankfully, went over Trixie’s head), Chloe tucks Trixie into bed and reads her a story, all the while wondering what her kid will think of her new relationship.

It’s no secret that Trixie adores Lucifer and has done so since the day she met him at her school, but this will be Chloe’s first post-divorce relationship. Trixie hasn’t ever made much of a stink about her parents splitting up, much to her mother’s relief, but that could change if she sees her mother actually moving on from her father. Chloe clearly remembers the first time Penelope introduced her to one of her boyfriends after John’s death, and it was...not a pleasant experience. That could be because Chloe knew this was just one of her mother’s coping mechanisms and the guy was a bit of a creep, but still.

And it’s only been a few days for her and Lucifer, but Chloe already knows this relationship is going to be more...intense than her past ones, even her marriage to Dan. Hell, she’s already blurted out an I love you to him, and though he didn’t say it back, she knows he feels it. He’s certainly demonstrated it. More than once. But there’s every possibility (and hope) that Lucifer could be her future, if this works out.

If Trixie doesn’t approve, though, or if Lucifer decides he can’t adjust to having a child in his life...what then? Chloe doesn’t want to give him up, but her daughter has to come first; it’s one of the many things she promised herself when she was pregnant. Trixie is most important, over everything and everyone. Even Lucifer.

He seemed to be accepting of being involved with a single mom, but the only way to know for sure is for them all to spend time together. Which means, Trixie is going to need to know, at some point, about her mother’s new boyfriend. It doesn’t have to be immediately; they can give it some time to let Lucifer ease into the domestic side of things. But that means he can’t sleep over, because Trixie has a habit of not knocking on Chloe’s bedroom door in the morning.

Unless he doesn’t mind sneaking away at dawn... Then again, it probably wouldn’t be the first time.

“Mommy?”

Chloe pauses in her reading to turn to her daughter, who’s frowning up at her, half-hiding behind Miss Alien. “What’s wrong, Monkey?”

“I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Her heart feels like it’s in a vise. “I really am, Trix. I promise.” Setting aside the book, she snuggles down into the small bed next to her daughter.

“Lucifer saved you. Didn’t he?”

Chloe nods. “Yeah, Monkey,” she whispers. “He did.”

“I saw him when he came back and he didn’t look good.”

That’s because he died and went to Hell...

“Lucifer’s okay, too. I talked to him this weekend. Everybody is fine, you don’t have to worry.” Trixie averts her eyes, clearly still worrying. “I know this was really scary. I was scared, too.”

“You were?”

“Yeah. But I feel so much better now, and I’m going to be fine.”

“But what if you get hurt? Again?”

Reaching out to smooth back her daughter’s hair, Chloe wishes she could promise to never get hurt again. Unfortunately, it’s a sad fact that cops get hurt on the job. All the time. Next time, it could be Dan. “I can promise you that I’m really careful. I know there have been a lot of...accidents lately, but I try to avoid getting hurt when I can.”

“And you have Lucifer to protect you.”

Chloe smiles. “And I have Lucifer to protect me. It’s a scary job, sometimes, but I’m always going to do everything I can to come home to you. Okay?”

Trixie gives her a little nod. “Okay.”

“How would you feel about Lucifer coming over for Taco Tuesday this week? Since Daddy might not be able to be there?”

The little girl lights up. “That would be so awesome! Do you think he would?”

“I’m sure I can convince him. And maybe we can have a game night, too, even though it’s not our usual night.”

“That sounds fun. I bet Lucifer is really bad at Monopoly.”

Chloe laughs. “We’ll have to find out,” she says conspiratorially, dropping a kiss on Trixie’s forehead. “Get some sleep, baby, okay?”

“Okay. Love you, Mommy.”

“I love you, too, Trixie.”

She manages to make it upstairs to her bedroom before she starts crying. Out of nowhere, it hit her exactly how close she was a week ago to leaving her daughter motherless. And it would be worse for Trixie than it was for her; at least Chloe (mostly) grew up with her father. Trixie hasn’t even hit double digits yet.

It’s times like this when Chloe considers a career change. The thoughts never take her far, though; she loves her job and she is damn good at it. She knew going into it that police work would be difficult and dangerous—she grew up the daughter of a cop. There’s always a low-grade fear, however she tries to hide it, that one day, she won’t come home, and it feels selfish following her dream knowing that risk is there.

But changing careers would feel like giving up. Like admitting to all the haters who said the actress who showed her boobs on the big screen isn’t cut out to play with the big boys. And what kind of example would that be setting for her daughter? Chloe is trying to raise a strong, confident young woman who can do anything she sets her mind to and doesn’t give up out of fear.

Shaking herself, Chloe gets ready for bed and realizes she still hasn’t sat down to think about the ‘bigger picture’ with God and Heaven and Hell, and all the rest. Her roommate is a real life demon and her partner is the Devil. Oh, and she’s a Miracle of God.

What even is her life?

On the upside, she realizes as she brushes her teeth, her father is probably in Heaven. Right? According to Lucifer, guilt is what sends people to Hell, and as far as she knew, John Decker wouldn’t have had anything to feel guilty about. That niggling worry is there, though, and she makes a mental note to ask Lucifer about it some time—whether there is a way to know for sure if her dad is in Heaven. And assuming Chloe lives the rest of her life guilt-free...she’ll see him again.

That gives her pause.

What would that even be like? What’s Heaven like?

She has so many questions to ask Lucifer soon. Preferably in person.

Her phone rings at precisely nine o’clock. She grins at the mental image of Lucifer staring at the clock, phone in hand, just waiting to call her. She likes it.

“Hi, Lucifer.”

“Hello, Detective. Miss me yet?”

She considers teasing him, but there’s an edge of uncertainty in his tone and she decides to give him the honest answer. “I do, actually.”

“Really?” The hopeful surprise in his voice is both satisfying and sad.

“Really.”

Then the cliché question, “What are you wearing?”

As much as she wants to roll her eyes, his low, sultry voice has an effect on her. She glances down at herself, suddenly wishing she was wearing something sexier. “Pajama shorts and an old LAPD t-shirt.”

He hums as though she told him she has on some little lace negligee. “Well, it’s a shame I’m not there to take it off you...”

“What are you wearing?”

“The same suit I was when you last saw me, actually. Although, that can be easily rectified if you had...other intentions...”

She didn’t before... “What did you do after I left?”

He sighs. “I stared longingly at the elevator door for several minutes considering the merits of rushing down the emergency stairs to meet you at your car so I could kiss you again.” Chloe bites her lip against a ridiculous smile. “And then, I worked on some necessary paperwork for Lux.”

Her jaw drops. “You willingly did paperwork?” she asks flatly.

She can hear his grin. “Well, I wouldn’t say willingly, but yes. Accounting, liquor orders, et cetera. All the things Mazikeen used to do before she quit to hunt humans. And yes, it was dreadfully boring and tedious. But needs must.”

“Where’s this ‘needs must’ attitude when I need you to help with paperwork?” She’s teasing. Mostly.

“You’re far more efficient than I am with casework, Detective. I’m just a mere consultant.”

“Oh, please, we both know there’s nothing ‘mere’ about you,” she says without thinking.

“Detective!” he says in pure delight. “Too right you are. Are you in bed? I can demonstrate my not-mere qualities, if you like.”

“I’m not having phone sex, Lucifer,” she says dryly.

He’s totally pouting now, she knows it. “But it’s so much fun, darling.” He lowers his voice and turns up the temptation. “I’ve been told I’ve a very sexy voice. And I've been thinking of nothing but you all day, even during the tedious boredom of paperwork. Or are you telling me you’ve not thought of me once?”

Damn him. She has thought of him. And she may have tuned out the 337th rewatch of Frozen and instead replayed everything they did this weekend. “I didn’t say that,” she says slowly.

“So you have thought of me? Lovely. I was down in the Lux office, so I replayed our storage room moment in perfect clarity,” he murmurs into her ear. “I’d never come so hard in my life.”

Chloe bites her lip, hard, against a groan, but she’s sure she makes some noise that he hears over the other line; he lets out a low chuckle. She clears her throat. “Really?”

“Indeed,” he murmurs, then he sounds almost shy. “Although, that may have had something to do with what you said to me shortly before.”

She told him she loved him. “Oh,” she exhales, wondering if he even heard her. It surprised her a little that he’s bringing it up.

He hums. “I hope you know that I feel the same,” he says, his voice nearly inaudible. “I’ve never said...that to anybody before.”

How does he always manage to simultaneously break and warm her heart? “Well, you don’t have to say anything you’re not ready to say, Lucifer,” she tells him, not for the first time. “There’s no rush. Right?”

He sighs. “Right. I’ve never done...any of this, Detective. All my experience with romantic relationships comes from films.”

She can’t help it; she laughs.

“Are you laughing at me?” he asks, aghast. “And here I thought you, of all people, would have a bit more compassion.” She can hear the teasing note in his voice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh, Lucifer, really.” Mostly, she’s laughing so she doesn’t cry. Lucifer doesn’t like feeling pitied, and if she tells him what she’s really thinking, that’s what he’ll believe. She doesn’t pity him. It’s sympathy. And anger towards his father for forcing him to endure Hell for so long and thus missing out on the good parts of life. “Sorry. I can say with some authority that relationships are nothing like in the movies. And they’re all different; there’s no real right or wrong way to be in one. The most important part is communication—we have to be able to talk to one another. Trust is incredibly important, too, of course.”

“Well, that’s easy. There’s nobody I trust more than you, Chloe. Now more than ever.”

“I trust you, too, Lucifer,” she tells him sincerely. “More than anybody.”

He lets out a breath of what sounds like disbelief. Not that he doesn’t believe her, but that he can’t believe she puts that much trust in him, the Devil. “I’d kiss you right now, were I there.”

Chloe presses her lips together against a smile. “Oh, yeah?”

He hums. The low sound sends heat straight to the apex of her thighs. “Indeed. I’ve spent a year wondering what your lips taste like—the set on your face as well as the ones between your pretty thighs.” She has to bite her lip to hold back the involuntary sound that tries to force its way out of her throat. Though she doesn’t bother tempering her blush—no one’s here to see it. “And now that I know both...well,” the last word comes out as a sigh, “I can’t imagine I’ll be getting any work done. Not without wanting to drag you into the Evidence locker, that is.”

It’s nearly impossible to not imagine what that would be like. Not that Chloe ever would; she’s a professional, responsible detective, after all. “Yeah, that won’t be happening,” she says dryly.

“No? I suppose you’ll insist on being professional within the workplace. But I think I’d be able to persuade you one of these days. Just imagine it, Detective. Pressing you against the racking with all those little evidence bags and files. We’d have to be quiet, of course; wouldn’t want anyone to hear us, would we?”

She’s pretty sure that’s a rhetorical question, but she makes some sort of negative sound in response.

And she can hear his smirk; even over the phone, he knows the effect that he has on her. After this weekend, it’s difficult for her to deny it. “We’d be in a bit of a rush, but the time restraint would have no bearing on the way I make you feel. Kissing you to muffle your sounds...trailing my lips down your neck... Shoving our clothing aside to get to the best bits. You’d probably insist on not being completely nude, and that’s perfectly fine; I can work with that. In fact, I’d spin you around and you’d grab onto that racking to keep yourself upright and I would press myself in close from behind.”

Although she does try to resist the urge, Chloe’s hand has other ideas and starts trailing down her own body, the way she now knows Lucifer would. It isn’t the same as his touch, of course, but she makes do.

“Are you touching yourself, Chloe?” he purrs, low and seductive.

She wants to say no, just to spite him, but she can’t lie to him. “Yes,” she says in a breathy whisper.

His groan goes straight to where she wants to feel him the most. “Good. I’d slide my hand down your body, from your neck to your perfect tits, down to your belt that I would quickly unfasten along with your tight jeans—it’s bloody embarrassing how much time I’ve spent staring at your pert arse in those jeans you wear to work, Detective.”

A smile forms on her lips that she can’t hold back. She’s spent plenty of time staring at his, after all. The bespoke suits he wears that are tailored perfectly and specifically for him emphasize his...assets. Thoughts of late evenings in the precinct when he’d take off his jacket and roll up his shirtsleeves, revealing tanned, toned forearms. More than once, she’s caught herself staring at the way those muscles move and had to shake herself to get back to work; hopefully, he never noticed that. But knowing him...of course, he did, even if he never said anything. A little out of character for him, but he can be tactful...on extremely rare occasions.

“What are you doing, Detective? Where are you touching yourself?” There’s a touch of breathiness to his voice now, too, making her wonder what he’s doing.

“My breast,” she whispers, trying not to feel completely awkward and self-conscious. At the very least, she knows Lucifer won’t laugh at her. If Maze hears her, though... That’s another story altogether. Her hand slides lower. “My stomach...my pajama shorts.”

A strangled moan on the other end of the line. “Slide your hand inside,” he says quietly. “Which is precisely what I would do in that Evidence locker. Are you wet for me, Chloe?”

Suppressing a whine (barely), Chloe slips her hand inside her shorts, then inside her panties. “Yes,” she sighs.

“I bet you’re soaking, darling. Don’t touch your clit just yet, slide lower across your lips to the opening of that pretty pussy of yours. Oh, I could spend days there with my mouth buried in you, drinking from you—my very own ambrosia. I’d slide one finger inside to start.” Chloe does, wishing it was Lucifer’s long, talented finger, and a little moan escapes her lips. “I so enjoy the sounds you make, darling, Music to my ears. I could listen to you for days on end, those little whimpers and whines. The way you say my name...”

“Lucifer...”

He groans loudly. “Yes. Just like that.”

“Are you...” She can’t quite finish the sentence.

He gets the gist, though. “Touching myself? Yes. If you like, we could switch to a video call and you can see the effect you have on me. How hard I am for you.”

Tempting, but... “Not tonight,” she says apologetically.

“I’ll just have to describe it to you, then,” he says without missing a beat. “My cock is straining against my trousers, aching for you. All of me aches for you, Chloe.” She hears the faint sound of a zipper being pulled down, then his sound of relief at being freed. “I’m already dripping for you.” His voice is a bit strained and he lets out a hiss. She imagines him wrapping a hand around himself. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes... The Evidence locker. I’d work you up quickly—time restraints, you know—slip two fingers into you to the knuckle and feel how you clench around me, pulling me deeper. I’d have to bite into your shoulder to keep from moaning too loudly. And you’d want to touch me, too, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” she pants, slipping another finger inside herself, just as he described. “I’d reach back and grab your...c-cock,” she stumbles awkwardly over the word. But if he minds, he doesn’t let on; a soft groan reaches her ears, “and stroke you through your pants.”

“Fuck, Chloe,” he bites out, breathing hard.

She smiles, closing her eyes, her confidence growing. “Then I’d unzip you, because I want to feel you. And you’d push back into my hand.”

“Yes...”

“And you’d shove my jeans down, because, you know, time restraints.”

Lucifer laughs breathlessly, making her smile. “Indeed,” he purrs. “My thumb finds your clit, pressing and rubbing just the way you like it. And you’re so worked up, so desperate for me you come right then and there on my hand.” A strangled sound escapes his throat. “I’d taste you off my fingers while you come down, but we don’t have long to enjoy it...”

“Time restraints,” she says teasingly.

She can hear the smile in his voice. “So I’d bend you right over that racking, tell you to grab onto something.” Chloe presses the phone between her ear and shoulder then her free hand grabs the bedspread beside her, gripping it tightly and imagining it’s the racking. Or Lucifer’s hair. Both work for her. “Then I’d stroke myself a few times while you watch—I’ve seen how you like that, darling.” And here she thought she was being subtle... “I’d slide into you and you’re so wet and wanting, you take all of me easily.”

Chloe can’t bite back the whimper she makes.

“That’s precisely the sound you’d make.” The sound he makes is a half-moan, half-whimper and it sends a shiver down her spine. “Once I’m buried in you, I’d kiss your neck, wait for you to be ready, then grab your hips and start fucking you into the racking—hard and fast, just as I did in the closet at Lux. Does it feel good, Chloe?”

She’s moving her hand in her shorts fast, matching the pace he’s describing, seeing it all play out in her mind. “So good,” she pants breathlessly. “Lucifer...more.”

He growls and she can hear the faint sounds of his hand moving along his cock roughly. “You feel incredible, Chloe. So tight and hot and wet, clenching around me. Reaching around to grab my hair. I can feel your fingers now, tugging...pulling. I never felt it before, the pleasure-pain. Oh, the things you make me feel... Are you close, love?”

She has to stuff a fist into her mouth to muffle the moan she makes; between her fingers, his voice and words, and the endearment... “I’m close,” she sighs.

“So am I... I need to kiss you, so I turn your face towards mine.” His voice is trembling, faltering, the closer he gets. “And kiss you ravenously, tasting the sounds you make right off your tongue. You’re so close, Chloe, I can feel it.”

“Yes,” she whimpers, her head falling back against the pillow, the phone firmly between her ear and shoulder. “Please, Lucifer.”

“So pretty when you beg,” he says darkly. “But I’ll take care of you, love, you needn’t worry about that. Between my fingers on your clit and my cock filling you up, pushing into you, you’re going to come for me, Chloe.” She shivers as her climax takes her over the edge and she faintly hears Lucifer on the other end of the line joining her, his loud, drawn out moan in her ear prolonging the ecstasy. “That’s it... Come on my cock, Chloe.”

Chloe tries to keep quiet, some part of her mind remaining aware enough to muffle the sounds she makes, just loud enough for Lucifer. She can hear him talking her through it, but can’t focus on his words; just his voice is enough. Finally, her hand falls away from herself and she pants, eyes shut tightly, listening to Lucifer’s strained breaths.

“That was...” he says. His voice sounds dazed and slurred but satisfied. “Chloe...”

“Yeah,” she breathes in agreement, her brain too foggy to form real words.

Lucifer laughs softly. “No phone sex, eh?” he teases.

Rolling onto her side and pulling her legs up, Chloe chuckles lazily, wishing Lucifer was here so she could curl up into his side with his strong arms wrapped around her. “Yeah, well, you can be pretty persuasive.”

“Hmm...I could listen to you all night, darling.” She bites her tongue to prevent herself asking him to call her “love” again. “But you sound tired. Shall I let you sleep?”

What she should do is go clean herself up in the bathroom, but a yawn escapes her lips. Still, she doesn’t want to say goodnight to him just yet. She manages to get herself under the covers, not letting go of the phone. “Will you stay on the line with me? Just until I fall asleep?” she asks, her own voice slurred slightly from exhaustion. The few hours of sleep she and Lucifer got this weekend wasn’t enough for her, it seems.

She can hear his affectionate smile. “If you like. I could play piano for you—a lullaby, perhaps?”

His voice is teasing, but she knows he means it. “I’d like that,” she murmurs.

“Just a moment, then.” There are rustling noises on the speaker and several seconds later, his voice sounds a bit more distant. “Put me on speaker and your phone on the pillow beside you, Detective,” he says softly. She does. “Close your eyes, love.”

Nuzzling into her cool pillow, she lets herself drift off as Lucifer starts to play a soft melody—not quite a lullaby but close—and the soothing music washes over her. She pretends she’s sitting beside him on the piano bench, her head on his shoulder. And just as she slips over the edge into sleep, she mumbles. “G’night, Luc’fer.”

“Goodnight, Chloe. Sweet dreams, darling.”

She falls asleep with a smile on her lips.