Pairing: Lucifer/Reader

Word Count: 491

Summary: Lucifer doesn't understand why you're mad at him. After all, he did kill the people on your mental "Kill List"

Warnings: mention of blood, death, killing someone

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" you yelled in rage as you threw the door open and your leather jacket hit the back of the chair. You were seeing red. Rage ran up your spine and spread across your collarbone into your shoulders. You needed to hit someone. Instead, you swallowed your anger down and added yet another name to the "Kill List" you kept in your head.

There was only one person in the world that knew you kept a list of people you wanted to kill in your mind. Your best friend from college. What had started as a joke between the two of you one night had become a way you two would cope when someone pissed you off.

You ran your hands through your hair as you paced in front of the couch completely oblivious to the fact that Lucifer was sprawled out across it. A growl of anger started in the center of your chest as it built and pushed its way into your throat, a snarl curled your lip. Lucifer didn't move an inch. Usually, when you were this angry it was at him.

"I'm done! Fuck it. Fuck them all. They can all go rot in hell," the words popped out of your mouth, as you let out a guttural sigh.

"You know, Y/N," you jumped as Lucifer spoke, "I could arrange that quite easily." Exasperated you rolled your eyes at him.

"Thanks, but you can't solve this for me, Luci. It's not you could kill them all for me," you shrugged and then rolled your shoulders to release the built-up tension in them.

A smirk flitted across Lucifer's face as he stared you down. Uncomfortable, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. You blinked and when you opened your eyes, he was gone. Perplexed, you looked around the room, "Lucifer?"

A crash sounded from the kitchen. You pulled the gun from the back waistband of your jeans, your senses on high alert. You moved stealthily towards the kitchen. Gun first, you entered the kitchen. There, in front of the fridge with a beer in hand, stood Lucifer. He smiled at you nonchalantly, "Want a beer?"

Your brow furrowed as a quiet chill took over your demeanor and body, "Lucifer, why are you covered in blood?"

A smug smile crossed his face, "I'll just say that it's not mine".

Your right eyebrow raised as your brain worked through what he had said. Your eyes widened as realization crossed your face and anger filled you once more, "LUCIFER! Tell me that you didn't kill somebody."

"I didn't kill somebody," Lucifer said as he crossed the kitchen to you. You turned as he passed you.

"Then where did the blood come from?" you asked him, skepticism on your face.

"I killed multiple somebodies," he laughed as he walked down the hall, "Looks like you'll have to start a new 'Kill List'".