So… let's talk about the Mile High Club.
Chloe had never given it much thought. Sex on a plane? That would be a big, unhygienic, uncomfortable "not going to happen" for her. Leave going at it like that to couples on honeymoon or randy college kids jetting off to Cancun for Spring Break.
It was definitely not the kind of thing for a grown woman who was in possession of so many adjectives that were in direct conflict. Police officer. Ex-wife. Mother. And, you can't forget, her and Lucifer's "it's complicated." None of these titles made the idea of boinking someone while several miles high in the air seem either attractive or likely.
Things have a way of changing, though. Like how suddenly (about four hours into her trans-Pacific flight) the topic inexplicably found its way into dominating the first and foremost space of her thoughts.
Normally air travel filled her with little more than bored ambivalence. The repetitive and annoying predictability of long-term parking flowing into departures and check -in. Seat assignment then wrestling with her bag into the overhead compartment. A polite refusal to the gangly teenage boy who somehow towered over her and offered to help. She can take care of it herself, but thank you, it was nice to see that chivalry and manners still exist. Finally, all that was left to her day before trying to get some shut-eye on the red-eye was a goodbye text to Trixie before the wheels start rolling down the runway.
Business as usual and just another annoying flight.
Then a polite tap on her shoulder and the stewardess tells her that she's been upgraded.
Upgraded?
Boom. Just like that. And wait. Did she really mean from coach to first class? Another huge "not going to happen". Not in the world of her life and paygrade.
And what do you mean that it's already been taken care of? But the plane doesn't look fully booked so she couldn't have gotten bumped, right?
Nevermind that, though. 14 hours reclining in luxury instead of at knees-to-seat-back? Treat yourself, Chloe, and don't look a gift horse in the mouth.
So she shuffles ahead to the front of the plane. Trying not to smirk as she gets sidelong glares from her (green with envy) former coach companions. Maybe someone on the cabin crew found out that she's a cop? Technically Chloe is going away on assignment. About to go under cover and try to catch a bad guy, but she's not going to count the clock as starting until she clears immigration in Sydney and meets up with her contact.
Her "contact" being her ex-husband because the universe is an intrinsically unfair place where no amount of complaints to the department head could get her out of having to pretend that she and Ex are a happy couple of newlyweds. It was the perfect cover story required for their undercover assignment. Apparently. Or so she was told, because "they already have that dynamic between them". And the fact that they're inevitably going to be bickering under their breaths will further add to the air of authenticity.
So, yes, that's what Chloe gets to look forward to when she touches down. "Newlywed" again to Dan and he, being the dork that he is, will be guaranteed to do some silly gesture like show up with flowers or something else embarrassing.
So, yeah. Treat yourself, Chloe. You're going to need everything you can get to survive this job.
And then, of course, when she's shown to her seat there he is. No, not Dan, her other he. Lucifer Morningstar. The devil himself waiting for her in first class. Which makes sense since he's such a first class kind of guy, right?
Lucifer already has his chair down in full-on lounge mode with his feet cockily propped up on the end table. Next to him is a bottle (the full bottle, not just a glass) of champagne chilling on the table between their two recliners.
"Surprise, surprise, Detective," he says, though he's clearly anything but.
Her first instinct is to be cross with him.
She's not exactly sure why. It's just the reaction that she defaults to when confronted with her beyond unpredictable partner doing something crazy as all hell. And yes, that last pun was definitely intentional.
Maybe that's wrong of her. Technically he hasn't done anything yet. Actually, she's sure that he has. And probably 'doing something' includes one of the stewardesses already and Chloe just doesn't know about it yet.
So she settles on her trademark skeptical frown. Her famous Chloe Scowl. Letting him know that she's onto him and he'd better not try anything.
Let your guard down around the Devil and… he'll offer you a drink, apparently.
"Lucifer..." yeah, that's right, Chloe. Low tone. Flat but making your suspicion come through clearly. "Lucifer, what are you doing here?"
If her deliberately sub-zero reception to his presence makes a blip in his exterior, it's a very small blip. His smile remains as (for lack of a better word) devilish as it always is. If anything, it grows even wider to her unspoken accusation of a plot against her.
"Waiting for you, Detective, of course. Though I hope you don't mind if I cracked open the bubbly before your arrival."
He directs her attention to the champagne with all of the sweeping gestural flare of a magician revealing his latest trick. And, indeed, the level of the bottle makes it seem nearly half gone.
Already? Really? The plane isn't even off the ground yet.
But Lucifer Morningstar's tolerance is the stuff of legends and he doubtlessly has another bottle or three waiting in the wings for after takeoff.
Chloe is about to ask him about that: what kind of a flight is he gearing up for exactly, when a voice clears its throat behind her.
A pretty young stewardess with her hair in a bun smiles at her. She politely gestures at the still empty reclining seat next to her impeccably dressed partner. It reminds Chloe that she probably sticks out like a sore thumb here in the Richie Rich section, so she returns the cordial expression and quickly sits. Not wanting to draw anymore attention to herself since, yeah, undercover work is afoot and all that.
She waits until the stewardess leaves before turning to face Lucifer. He reaches out and across from her, catching her seatbelt and buckling her in just like she would do to her daughter.
"Lucifer!" she hisses, allowing his annoying gesture strictly for the sake of avoiding the scene she really wants to make.
"We're about to take off, Detective," he whispers, matching her low tone just to be extra irritating to her. "Safety first, my dear."
She's about to retort. Then realizes she has nothing to retort with. After all this time together they're well past the 'could you just stop being yourself for a few minutes?!' stage of pettiness and have progressed to occasionally exasperated acceptance of each other's quirks. So she settles for biting her tongue and allowing him to fill up her champagne flute. He does it right to the very brim, naturally, and it makes her hurry up and drink from it before it froths over and onto her lap.
"Cheers?" he offers. Jovial as always but not at all luciferous. And yes, that is actually a word.
Fine then, she can grill him about what the hell he's doing here (this is supposed to be a secret undercover mission goddamnit) at a later time. But right now the champagne is freaking amazing and that's reason enough to let herself get distracted. Like, it's the really good quality stuff. The best she's had since… her real wedding to Dan.
Just thinking of the problem situation waiting for her Down Under is enough for her to drop the hatchet and return the toast offered by her partner. Can't leave him hanging after giving her such a treat.
"So you did this, right?" she asks, "you got my ticket upgraded?". Her words are muffled by the glass between her lips and the bubbles tickling her nose. And she knows the answer, too, but she's hoping the prompt for conversation will get him to explain himself.
Lucifer's smile grows then. Even wider than before but losing that Bad Boy-ness quality as it becomes something altogether more genuine.
"Certainly. I hardly would enjoy the flight so much on my lonesome."
She sips at her drink. Watching his fingers twiddle expectantly on the bottle as he waits for her to finish so he can fill her glass again.
Are you trying to get me drunk, Morningstar? Oh wait, of course you are, but maybe it's not the worst idea on a flight this long.
"Okay… that's kind of sweet."
She lets him have that. Because she doesn't know how much he had to pay for her ticket and even though he's got more money then common sense… yeah, it's kind of sweet. And 14 hours spent getting drunk with the devil in comfort beats 14 hours of trying to sleep in an upright position in the ass-end of the plane, right?
At yet, Chloe has to make herself glance at him. Suddenly feeling awkward that she'd been avoiding eye contact for no reason other than she was getting into her own head again.
He's still smiling at her. Expectant and with his eyebrows raised. Very much like Trixie when she's hoping to get praised after doing something exceptional but being too modest too brag about it.
Trixie, that is. Not Lucifer. There never was a modest bone in his body, starting with his first candid and buck naked attempt to seduce all those many months ago.
Chloe sighs. Giving in and letting herself smile back at him.
"Lucifer… thank you."
Just like that, like the magical magician that he is, her empty glass gets filled up in the blink of an eye. They toast to a pleasant flight in good company.
And Chloe keeps to herself the thought that she hopes they'll still be on speaking terms with each other when they land.
An hour and a half in and Chloe's starting to feel pretty special.
It's not just the first class treatment, though constantly being doted on by the cabin crew asking her if she needs anything at all is rather nice. Almost like she's at a spa or a fancy resort.
But the champagne… oh yes, that's catching up with her. Lucifer just keeps on filling up her glass and she just keeps on drinking and forgetting to ask him what the hell is he doing here?
He's her partner. Granted that she didn't ask for him to join her or have any idea that he would be here, but it's kind of what partners do: exist in the same space and help with the case.
Oh, right. The case. Well, it might be hard to explain why she, being a supposedly blissful newlywed, is spending the flight drinking with a handsome man who's most assuredly not her "husband". But again, she doesn't clock in until the wheels come down in the southern hemisphere.
And perhaps Lucifer might be useful. He always is, she reluctantly admits to him. Trying and failing to wave off him touching up her glass yet again for the she's already forgotten how many-th time.
"Yes, Lucifer. You're a great partner. You go in there and… you do you. You do your thing and somehow the mission is always a success. So, yeah, you're a good one."
Wow… okay. Did she say she was feeling special? Because apparently she's more than special. Steadily approaching "inebriated" with "rather trashed" in the not too distant horizon.
"Detective..." he starts to say something. Then shakes his head. Probably was going to comment on how Drunk Chloe is much less of an uptight stick in the mud. Mud or perhaps other locations as well.
But, you know what? It's his fault. He's seen her sauced before. And one of the perks of spending four times more on a ticket is that no one has anything to say when she suddenly laughs uproariously. Giggling too loudly to be ignored as her partner tells her a dirty joke about the last time a woman told him the words "mission success".
That kind of gets the wrong train of thought started in Drunk Chloe's head. Sex. Don't think about sex. You're about to be a newlywed on "honeymoon" for godsakes…
"Have you been to Australia before?" she asks, desperate to change the topic from the raunchy line of thought her mind had been suggesting.
"Detective, I've been everywhere."
She rolls her eyes. Such a Lucifer answer. But she can feel that her cheeks are getting tried from smiling so much. If she were sober, his non-answer would probably have annoyed the crap out of her. Deep into bottle of champagne number two (shared, not just all drunk by her, thankyouverymuch) and she forgets why she ever thought he could be bad company.
Three hours down, eleven left to go.
Chloe was still a little (okay, maybe more than a little) too drunk to fully appreciate dinner. 'It was something special,' Lucifer had told her, but she didn't know if that meant because the meal was first class fare, or because it was something that he had planned just for the occasion. Probably the latter, perhaps?
"You've really thought of everything, haven't you Morningstar?"
His last name rolls out unevenly on her champagne numbed lips, but he follows her meaning as smoothly as if he'd plucked the thought right out of her head himself.
"Of course. When else might I have the chance to have you as such a captive audience?"
She laughs, giggling into her champagne. How much has she had already? He's funny, though.
"Your captive? Is that what I am now?"
His smile grows. It had never fully left him, though it had settled into a subtle lift to the corners of his mouth while her cheeks ached from grinning for so long.
"I suppose so, yes. For the next few hours at least, unless you happen to have a parachute hidden in your décolletage."
He glances significantly at her chest. She follows his gaze with her chin, noticing the broader expanse of bare flesh than she usually permits. And just when had she opened up the top three buttons to her blouse?
A flash of embarrassment blooms across her skin, tinging it a bright pink. He clears his throat and looks away. An oddly gentlemanly gesture that makes her grin into her glass.
"Captured by the tall, dark, nightclub owner? Sounds like the title of a bad romance book, Lucifer."
"You forgot 'devilishly handsome' in there, Detective. And my romances always end on a high note."
"Oh, of course they do, Mr. Morningstar, of course they do."
To emphasize her teasing, she promptly dips two fingers into her champagne flute then flicks them at him. He double blinks at her childish gesture and for a second she wonders if they're about to get into a highly ridiculous food fight right here between the rows of overpriced padded leather recliners.
Then she does it again, this time aiming right for the center of his forehead.
"Detective..." he warns, catching her hand in his to keep from getting any damper.
She lets it drop to the little table between them and he holds on. Staring into her face and she can see him growing visibly confused by whatever he finds there.
Lucifer... sure is easy on the eyes. She's thought that before so she knows it's not just the alcohol talking. But booze has a way of enhancing every emotion, and right now he's starting to look positively delectable.
Great. Drunk Girl Chloe is checking out her partner and not even trying to hide it anymore.
"Devilishly handsome indeed," she whispers, not able to help herself. Leaning in just a little too close and watching how it's his turn this time to blush and stumble.
Then he gets it. Oh. She's being a dork again. She's good at doing that.
"Detective... are you trying to flirt with me?"
"Maybe."
Even she doesn't know the answer to that question for sure. But she winks at him again as she plays with his hand. Pinching each top knuckle and tracing her touch along the length of his fingers. He has beautiful hands. The hands of a pianist, among so many other things.
When she looks up again, his grin is practically from ear to ear. He seems entirely too pleased with their quiet moment and that can't be tolerated.
Okay. Okay, okay, Chloe. Time to take it up another notch.
She turns to face him more fully. Her knees bump against his and he leans in as she scoots to the edge of her seat. Does he really think that she's about to kiss him? It's not a terr-
Oh wait, it actually is. Nevermind.
"Lucifer? Are you paying attention?"
"Every move and every breath, Detective."
"Then watch."
Her free hand traces along her own collarbone before serpentining its way down along her cleavage. Does this look sexy? She feels sexy, but also really quite drunk. Sober Chloe would be asleep and conscientious right now.
She pops open the fourth button on her shirt. Exposing half of the black, polka-dotted bra she's wearing underneath. It was one of her comfort bras for traveling, but it has a lace edge and is quite a pretty thing if not overly sexual.
"Oops," she says with a pout, and then pop goes button number five.
He catches her hand, stopping her from undressing beyond the point of 'revealing' and into full on "
'indecent'.
"Detective... er, perhaps you should-"
"It's so adorable to see you flustered like this, Lucifer."
"Flustered? I... yes. I was only trying to have little game, Detective, but you seem bent on not playing fairly."
She laughs, shaking her head. Not caring enough about what anyone else other than she and him have to think about the hushed scene they're making.
"But there's nothing under there I haven't seen before, I suppose," he says after an intentionally long and loaded pause. Scratching his chin thoughtfully and making a show of appraising her bosom.
"Oh god... I'm going to have to live down 'Hot Tub High' for the rest of my life, aren't I?"
He nods. Glumly. Fakely glumly, and she reaches out and pinches him. His eyebrow raises.
"I'm sorry, Detective, but yes. You'll always be 'The Girl Who Wasn't in High Definition' of my heart."
Oh, now that... That goes too far. She pinches him again, this time a good bit harder. He yelps and she can see a few heads turn to look in her periphery. So she scoots even closer. Blocking their intimate tête-à-tête with her back until the other passengers lose interest.
"Violence, Detective!" he whispers, leaning in much to close like he always does. "Such acts of brutality won't be stood for."
He still hasn't let go of her hand. Despite his growing proximity into her space, there's a thread out self doubt on his face. He's flirting. She's flirting. But he's the one thats cautious, and she's the one that's refusing to give up all the ground she's gained.
"Lucifer?"
"Yes, Decker?"
Hmmm... using the last name name? And just what does that mean?
"I was pretty wild when I was young."
"You're still young. Just a sapling, really."
They're so close now. She's kissed him before, and she could do it again now with just a slight shift to her head.
But she has a better idea. A worse idea.
"Let's go check out the bathroom together."
A moment (of silence).
He blinks. Twice. Then opens his mouth to speak. Then shuts it (miracle of miracles). Until finally: "Are you… Detective, do you mean-"
"Yes."
"...oh."
"Scared, Lucifer?"
He swallows. Up this close, she can see his Adam's apple bob up and down with the movement.
"Never, Detective. Not with you."
And she smiles, then. But maybe she'd never stopped smiling.
"Then let's go."
Lucifer stands up so gracefully that his movements flow like silk. And he offers her his hand to help her to her feet.
"Ladies first, my dear. I shall be but a few steps behind you."
Perfect. And who says Chloe Decker always has to be Miss Responsible? Now it's time to have a little high-altitude fun.
Author's Note:
This is my 2nd fic writing from Chloe's POV it's just soooo much fun. She's one of my very favorite characters and I hope I did her at least a little justice. Trying to figure out how she'd react to this rather ridiculous situation I put her in while still trying to keep it realistic to her character…
Chapter 2 things get a lot friskier, I just wanted to have some playtime in Chloe's head first to set the scene and tension up right.