Weeeelll, when this idea sprung to mind, it was supposed to be short and funny, but it kind of took off on it's own, so - sorry about that.

I feel like I should warn you, there's a teeny-tiny, little, ~barely significant~ amount of Character Death. Maybe. I mean - that's if you want to even think of it like that. Which you shouldn't. Because I'm calling this Fluff.

Lucifer is the authority when it comes to language - being the devil, he speaks literally all of them - and he's always prided himself on his creativity with words. Rarely has he ever had to resort to vulgarity to get his point across.

But, right now?

Overwhelmed by the sudden resurgence of memories that had long been buried the devil finds himself at an absolute loss. He falls, therefore, back on a phrase he's heard often in his recently adopted home -

"What the fuck?"

The door is locked - and stays that way - no matter how much he fumbles around with the latch. He needs to get out, of course, before one of his self-righteous siblings decides he's starting another revolt and chooses to bloody well skewer him.

But there should even be doors, nevermind locked ones - what are they worried about? Thieves?

"Lucifer?"

Lucifer's heart skips-stutters-stops. When he turns it starts again at a gallop because it's her. "Chloe?"

His detective nods, her loose curls bouncing around her head. "Is it really you?"

"In the flesh, love." Lucifer reaches out a tentative hand and, when she doesn't pull away, he clasps his fingers around her cool ones.

"I've missed you."

Something about the air, he knows, makes it easier for mortals to admit their innermost thoughts when they're here. Fear is a foreign concept as the promise of acceptance echoes through the white halls. Still, the devil has to wonder - how long has it been for her? Days? Months? More?

Seconds for him, he thinks, since he held her in his arms.

"I-" he swallows. "I've missed you too."

She's solid before him, alive and real, more luminescent than the very walls, and he never thought he'd see her again. He'd been struggling to reconcile himself with the fact that his last memory of her would be tainted with pain and blood but here she is, gorgeous and pure and whole.

Chloe links their hands and lets her fingers twine with his. She reaches on her toes to press a lingering kiss to his lips and something expands inside his chest, fast and uncontrollable until it splinters and cracks, the white-hot shards flying apart within him.

It doesn't feel like hurt, but healing.

Tension bleeds from Chloe's shoulders as she drops back to her feet and the frown that was creasing her forehead is gone. "Where the hell are we?"

Seconds for her too, it seems.

"Not Hell," he corrects. "Quite the opposite, actually."

At her continued confusion he adds, "We're in the Silver City. Heaven, if you prefer."

And of course she's here - it makes nothing but sense that she's here - but why is he?!

"We're in - Heaven?" The detective looks utterly crestfallen for a moment and Lucifer tugs her unresisting form forward, folds her against his chest.

Should she even be aware of her mortality up here? Lucifer doesn't know - he'd been cast out long before her kind had stepped through the gates.

"Afraid so," he confirms as her arms band around his waist. "Can't say I didn't warn you about that damn virtuous life of yours. It's led you to an eternity of boredom, my love."

Chloe doesn't laugh at his joke - if he's being perfectly honest, he doesn't expect her to.

"So I'm dead," Chloe says, breath fanning against his collarbone. She sounds a little sad - resigned, maybe, but not exactly surprised.

Lucifer says nothing as a flash of her broken body - lips stained red, blue eyes clouded - springs to the forefront of his mind before he can violently push it back.

Yes, she's dead.

And it's his own damn fault - if he'd been faster, perhaps? If he hadn't been so reluctant to return, hadn't put so much stock in the answers the mortal world didn't hold. He'd wasted too much time before he'd sought out the wretched scientist.

He will - he will allow himself to mourn her only after whatever this is has played out. Instead, he tightens his arms around her, savouring as much of this stolen moment as he can before someone realises he's here and all Hell - so to speak - breaks loose.

When she speaks again her voice is softer. Sadder. "Does this mean you're dead too?"

"No, I'm not dead." At least, he doesn't think so.

He'd been - well, he'd been next to her, cradling her in his lap one second and then simply here the next. It's not impossible that someone snuck upon him while he - well, he hadn't been paying a whole lot of attention to his surroundings, had he? But no, he doesn't think he's dead - he feels more corporeal than he did when he snuck back down to Hell.

Lucifer can hear the genuine relief in her voice as she emphatically states, "Good."

"It's not like they'd let me in if I were anyway." Tsk. Even he can hear the bitterness in his voice.

Chloe pulls back, tries to catch his eyes but he refuses to meet hers. "What does that mean?"

"I'm the devil."

"So you keep saying, but what does that mean?"

"And yet you still don't believe me," Lucifer laments. "We're standing in the blasted hallowed halls of my Dad's home and you still won't-"

"Of course I believe you," Chloe counters and Lucifer stops mid-word, his jaw hanging open.

"You do?"

Chloe nods. "The wings don't exactly scream human."

Good. That's go- Wait. The wings?!

Oh, He didn't. He wouldn't have, surely not. A quick glance over his shoulder confirms that his Father, in fact, did.

"Son of a bitch!"

Chloe's snort brings him back around. She doesn't appear frightened, at least, so that's something.

"Regardless, I rather expect someone to come along and kick me back out any second now."

And he's not just saying that - he really does expect one of his siblings to round a pillar at any moment - maybe a whole horde of them, their proverbial torches at the ready?

It's a minor miracle he'd even gotten through the gates in the first place - even if he's not sure how that happened, exactly - and at least he's had the chance to see her again.

Perhaps this may be the one gift he's not strong enough to throw back in his Father's face?

"But this is Heaven," Chloe says, her hands fisting in his - wait, is he wearing robes? "Isn't it like they say?"

Ignoring his wardrobe - because again, what the fuck? - Lucifer gently takes hold of his detective's shoulders. "Surprisingly enough, your scholars got some things right, yes. You have nothing to fear here, Chloe, I promise you."

Unshed tears glisten in her eyes and twist at his heart. She should not be afraid. She should not be unhappy. This was - home - Heaven.

Wanting to offer as much assurance as he can, Lucifer digs deeper. It's hard for him to admit - to remember - but, for her, he'll try. "You will find peace here, darling. Joy. You'll be happy."

"But how?" she says, her own hands sliding to cup his cheeks. "How can this be Heaven without you?"

Oh.

And he has no answer for that.

He's not prepared for his - he's not prepared for any of this.

Lucifer presses his forehead against hers, closes his eyes against the probing blue depths of her own and allows himself to simply breathe the same air. Time moves differently between the planes, a moment could pass - or an hour. A year. A lifetime - and they wouldn't know.

They stay that way, pressed together, long enough for the knot to ease in his chest as the devil waits for someone to come, to pull him away. Nobody does.

Knowing how this works - in theory if not in practice - Lucifer rather suspects that they can't remove him should they dare to try.

Because - this is real.

And if he's her idea of Heaven it damn well must be.

Lucifer doesn't spend much time contemplating, his decision is made in the span of a heartbeat, because of course he won't leave her.

"Not to worry," he says, pulling back at last. "The door is locked, darling. I couldn't leave even if I wanted to."

The frown returns to Chloe's face. "There is no door."

And when he looks over she's right; the entrance to the room stands open.

Well, if this was his Father's plan, Lucifer has to admit - grudgingly - that it worked.

Clever old bastard.

a/n: Yeah, feel free to yell at me in the comments.