The air was sticky and thick with humidity. As the sun dipped low on the horizon, dense mustard hued smog hung heavy in the air. It was unusually hot in Los Angeles for this time of year and the stagnant heat of the day clung to the skin. Stepping onto the balcony of his penthouse, Lucifer sighed deeply and stretched his broad shoulders as he peeled the damp Burberry button up away from his skin.
"Blimey, you know it's bloody hot when even the devil sweats" he thought to himself.
Dropping the shirt on a lounge chair, he could feel beads of sweat quickly building on the small of his back. Just as he was about to wipe them away, a sudden breeze passed over the high rise of Lux and licked at the dampness, cooling him momentarily and sending a shudder up his spine. Another sigh escaped this throat as he hunched his form onto the balcony railing, surveying the City of Angels which had become his home.
It had been two days since he and Chloe had seen one another. She hadn't taken it well – not that he had expected her to – but honestly, he didn't even know that it had returned until he saw the terror in her eyes. The same eyes that he found himself missing moments after they parted ways after work every day. The same eyes that he missed sleep over; he was certain that there wasn't a proper color name to describe them and he was determined to give them a name worthy of the brilliant way they flickered and glistened regardless of the light source or lack there of. The same eyes he spent hours staring deeply into and yet could never pull desire from them; oh what a cruel joke his Father played with that one. The single most important person to him in the whole of the universe, try as he might to deny that fact, and he could never quite get a read on her. He yearned – nay – craved to stare deeply into her swirling orbs and coax every desire from the farthest reaches of her soul. He would give her anything (and everything) her heart desired, she need only ask.
His memory flashed back to that moment; as her eyes changed from concern to terror, his heart began to splinter like dead wood locked in a drought. She had seen his true form in exactly the way he had feared; anger filling him to the brim as he sat hunched over a dead human, devil face on display with the very fires of hell burning crimson in his eyes. Drunk on victory... on revenge. That damn moment, the one he had agonized over since the first day they met and it had all gone sideways.
Although, should he have expected anything else?
Despite what Linda said to him over and over, he had every intention of showing the detective who he really was. Finally proving to Chloe that he wasn't delusional and above all, always completely honest. He promised that he would show her both sides of himself, she had made that decision easy with her constant reminders that regardless of how he felt about himself, he could trust her. The woman practically begged him to lower the drawbridges of the walls he had built so high, fortified by a millennia of loneliness, shame, blame, and humiliation. The last time he truly trusted, well, he was in the Silver City and all of creation knows how that worked out for him. The detective had said on more than one occasion that regardless of how he saw himself, she didn't see him as the devil... pretty words given that she had absolutely no clue what she was talking about but it didn't change the fact that he clung to those words, those promises, like they were his very life blood.
So yes, of course he would tell her... damn it, just not like that. He almost had the chance that night in Ella's office. He had softened his heart and features, reminding her again that she deserves the truth and that she was safe. He was so nervous in that moment that every instinct that he had was screaming at him to run. He stayed though, for her. Making absolutely sure she knew that he would not hurt her, he attempted to lower his glamour. He tried to reveal the monster inside of himself, only for his devil face to have been stripped away. She thought he was mocking her, mocking their relationship, and the way her face screwed up in pain made the fire that continually burned in his belly roar up and consume him. That, he remembered, was a pain he'd not soon forget. How easy it would have been to release his wings and prove it to her once and for all but he simply couldn't.
"Not like that." He bemoaned. "If Chloe should accept me, she must first accept the worst parts of me. Father may have forced my wings back upon me but I am an angel to the same degree I am mortal."
No. If Lucifer was to fully allow himself to open up to his dear detective... if they were to ever have a future together, she would have to know him as he had always known himself. A pariah of Heaven, the Lord of Hell, Satan. Showing her his wings would only reinforce her belief that he was wholly good and with no devil face to prove otherwise, he'd feared he would be worse off.
Unceremoniously, he rolled his shoulders and unfurled his wings. He hadn't been healing as fast as he expected so he was rather annoyed when he winced slightly as they shuddered open. Curling each one slowly and gently around to his front, he began to inspect their healing. He ran his hands over the once stark white wings which were still stained with blood and thought back to that night.
"Go Lucifer, now!" Chloe said firmly after a silence that Lucifer feared would last an eternity. He was uncertain if he would ever see or hear from her again, but the force behind her command and the coldness in which she turned away from him prove it best not to argue. The very last thing he wanted to do was leave her in the destruction around them, bullet casings scattered like marbles, dust and chunks of marble statues, feathers far too large to belong to any bird known to man, and several dead bodies, including the one of her former lover. He didn't want to leave her there, not only processing the scene but the new truth of who – what – her partner truly was.
He had made a spirited effort to preen his wings when he returned home that night but they were caked with blood, shards of broken glass, and countless bullets, lodged in his feathers, hollow bones, and flesh. When folded on themselves and concealed in his back, he wasn't as aware of the agony he was in as he both battled Pierce and made his way back to Lux. He was suddenly reminded though, when he stretched them out completely to inspect the damage and white hot electricity screamed it's way through his body. Instantly concerned with how he would manage this alone, he tossed back scotch after scotch in a foolish attempt to dull... well, everything. He spent what felt like hours pulling lead and glass out bit by bit with his fingertips, all seemingly fused to his pinions. The scrapes and holes where the glass had entered him were gone now but the bullet holes were still red and gaping. Had Pierce used some kind of divine metal or ward on his ammunition to ensure Lucifer's death?
He shook the thought from his brain as a gentle rain began to fall and he tilted his chin toward the sky. Since his time on Earth began, he had always loved the rain; the only thing that fell from the sky in Hell was ash and oh how he hated the ash. It always left a thick coating on everything it touched, piling high against the doors of the mortals' hell loops. It might surprise the average person (after they have accepted the idea that the devil truly exists) that he is also in fact, a neat freak. The ash always clung to his feet and shoulders as he strode from his throne room through the various corridors to pay extra special attention to those especially heinous mortals.
Lucifer preferred to leave torture to the demons, unless someone truly repulsive and worthy of the worst punishments arrived. Those were his favorite and always worth the arduous task of trekking through that damned bloody ash. Demons would prostrate themselves in reverence for their master and knew that whilst they were showing their respects as he passed by, it was their duty to clear his path. Only one was ever brave enough to refuse this task and he respected her for it, making her his most trusted demon.
Yes, the rain here on Earth was far superior to ash. Cleansing and cool, the droplets fell swiftly onto his exposed skin and plumage as he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, grateful that the heat of the day was giving way to the approaching storm. Running his hands once more over his tattered wings, he shrugged and they returned into his back. In response, his body jerked slightly once more as another wave of heat seared it's way through his spine.
"I could use a drink." he thought to himself, turning on his heel but stopped only a fraction of a second later. Even before the elevator chimed her arrival, he knew. As the doors slid open, his heart stopped. She was here.
Frozen in place like a monolith, he eyed her as she stepped cautiously off of the elevator. His first instinct, the one he wished he could satisfy, was to run to her and wrap his arms around her, and breathe her in; the familiarity of her shampoo, the comforting aroma of her breath. Hell, even the scent of her leather jacket would be enough.
Lucifer stiffened himself but his foolish heart, a traitor to it's master, began to beat out her name so thunderously that it attempted to dull all other instincts. Oh, how he had missed her. Her very presence was intoxicating and enough to satisfy the ache of his wounds but he knew that he could not go to her, regardless of how magnetic the pull. Call it self preservation if you will but Lucifer knew that there were only two ways this could go and joining her would likely be the end of the one thing he truly desired. If he was honest with himself (he was the only one he ever really lied to anyway), he was scared of her and what she had come to say. She had his very heart and soul in her hands and the idea that she could crush them into dust at any moment was enough to keep him firmly planted in the shadows.
Regardless of why she was hear and how she might break him, he knew he needed to hear her. If not for the sliver of possibility that she would accept him but to have his ears flooded with the smooth honey of her voice one last time. Shifting his weight, Lucifer curved his body against a darkened corner of his penthouse. Was he really hiding from the detective like a child hiding from their parents for breaking a lamp? If he wasn't so captivated by her, he surely would have berated himself for how ridiculous he must have looked in this moment; such actions were far and away from his nature. He couldn't bring himself to care though. Instead, he watched intently as she eased her way into his home.
Lucifer knew he couldn't hide from her for long. Eventually she would make her way out onto the balcony and find him there. While he had his dear detective nearby, he would drink in every last moment, even if it meant that he was vulnerable to the pain that she was surely here to deliver. As she moved through the penthouse, he couldn't bring himself to look away. Oh, how his eyes had craved her.
"Eyes, look your last!" he thought, quoting a line he gave to Shakespeare, never realizing how his words would come back to not just bite, but devour him.
"Lucifer? Are you here?"
Author's Notes: Hello! While this isn't my first time writing as a hobby, this is my first time delving into the world of Fan Fiction. I enjoyed writing it but I am tentative to say the least. I plan to add more to this piece in the coming days/weeks but I'm not sure where I'm taking it. I guess we are going to find out together!
I do not own any of the Lucifer brand. I am merely enjoying molding the characters to scenarios that I think would be interesting.