Chloé woke slowly, from what felt like a million miles away. She was warm and safe.

Eyes closed, she felt herself drowsily coming around, as if from a very long, deep sleep. She didn't remember good dreams or bad, just Lucifer's body under her. He was warm too, his chest rising and falling gently with sleep. The air was heavy here, for some reason, stale.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around his body, hands falling asleep under his shoulders. She wiggled her fingers to get some circulation back in them and the brushed soft feathers.

Feathers?

She started awake with a hard cough. Lucifer moved under her, stirring.

Chloé pulled her head up, but it bumped into something both firm and yielding. And it rustled. A half second later she realized she was blind.

No, not blind, it was pitch black. There was an explosion. A bomb went off. They didn't find it in time. Rubble fell in waves. Lucifer grabbed her. And then.

Nothing.

Her training kicked in. They were in an air pocket. They both had to conserve their air until they found a way out. No light coming through meant there might be no trickle of air either, but it didn't rule it out. Lucifer was still out so she held herself very, very still, straining her remaining senses.

His arms were still locked tightly around her and she didn't have much wiggle room.

The paired beating of their hearts and shallow breaths were the only sounds. At least they were breathing.

The air was heavy but dust had settled. She worked a hand loose and licked her finger. She held it in front of her face, trying to see it and feel for movement. There might be airflow, a little. Until her partner wakes up, she shouldn't risk moving any rubble, she needed to see if he was injured.

When Lucifer wakes up, he's going to freak out.

She really hoped there wasn't a dead bird under them, but she didn't to investigate further just yet. She couldn't move her arms much anyway. She needed him to come to so she could move a little and try to get to her phone.

The body under her pulled in a longer breath and coughed. Lucifer's voice was rough, low. "Detective? Have you turned up in my bed again?" His hands flexed, one of them wandered down her back to her ass.

Chloé felt her face flash red. "LUCIFER." She hissed louder than she meant to. She felt him jerk fully awake and regretfully repositioned his hands. He hit his head on some rock or brick and she felt him wince.

"Bloody hell! Where - are you alright, detective?"

"I'm fine, I think. I can move all my fingers and toes. I feel rubble on my heels but I'm not in pain - maybe some scratches. My feet are trapped, but I don't think I'm losing circulation to them." She contracted her calves. The weird firm/yielding thing had blanketed her back all the way down to her ankles. Now that she thought about it, She didn't feel any rubble at all on her back. Maybe it wasn't as bad as she thought. She moved her hips experimentally and some heavy grit dislodged from her back, but that was all.

She heard something behind her .. rustle again. What was that? Lucifer muffled a groan and she thought about her hips rubbing against him. "Sorry."

"There are easier ways to get me on my back, you know."

She rolled her eyes in the blackness. "Can you see anything?"

He hesitated.

She wanted to smack him. "Well? Do you have a light source I don't?"

"A few, actually. I can make out your hair but that's most of it."

Chloé grumbled. "I can't see a thing. And I can't get to my phone. Can you?"

"I was playing 'Sex Words with Friends' and dropped my phone."

Because of course he was. "Maze beating your ass again?"

"Hardly. More like annihilating. She has an amazing vocabulary. Always got her hands far dirtier than mine."

She snorted. "Can you get to my phone? I can't move my arms much. I think I'm fine, just a little trapped."

More rustling.

Her partner shuffled around and touched her jacket pockets. She felt him touch a weight. His fingers skipped on the screen, making a scratching noise. "Cracked, and dead." he reported.

"Like we're going to be." She sighed. "The police will probably find us before too long. If we have enough air."

He laid still a moment longer. "Detective… Chloé. What do you remember?"

"A deafening explosion? It was hard to miss."

"What else?"

"I think we're under a mattress but I don't remember seeing a bed in the room where the bomb went off. Actually, I think we might be in the tunnel outside where the bomb was planted."

Rustle.

"No, that's not quite right." She concentrated. "We found the bomb that the suspect left. It was behind the wooden door that was painted like rock to look like the rest of the tunnel. It was supposed to go off later on a group of victims when they'd be passing this way." She bumped her head again. At least it didn't hurt. "Students? We're near a college or church?"

She grabbed for the memory, clawing at it. Some part of her brain didn't want her to have it. "We.. tripped it. The bomb technician tripped it by accident. Oh. Carl's dead."

She had to push that away for now. His armor might have saved him, but it was unlikely. She thought about yelling for him, but didn't. She knew he was dead. The flash.

Chloé blinked. "There's a body in here somewhere with us, or back in the first room. Then. You pulled me down, away from the blast. You moved so fast, like you saw Carl miss a step."

Under her, Lucifer shifted his weight again. Her hands were on his shoulders at his collarbone. Hesitantly, she slipped a few fingers past his ear, her palm against his five o'clock shadow.. "Chloé… What else?"

"You… you threw something around me."

"Kind of."

"Something around us both." She shifted her elbow carefully so she could straighten her arm. Her fingers reached, and she felt feathers. She recoiled. "Lucifer? There wasn't.. A flock of cushioning seagulls down here, was there?"

He laughed, somewhat ruefully to her ears. "No." He paused and she wished she could see his eyes. "No, Chloé, just me."

"We should be dead."

"Last year, it would have been more difficult to protect you like this."

She moved her hands again, exploring their pocket. More feathers? "Last year?"

"I didn't have my wings then."

Chloé froze. "The.. wings.. That were stolen? From the container?"

"I got them back. And burned them. My Father saw fit to .. 'give' them back to me."

She heard the capital letter, but ignored it.

"You.. . weren't… wearing them before the explosion? They were huge, right?"

Lucifer sighed under her. "They fold into another plane of existence when attached. The bloody things pop out at the most awkward times, but I guess they're useful for something."

She didn't say anything.

"Detective?"

"Lucifer."

"Yes?"

"Lucifer. Morningstar."

"Are you alright, love?"

"Am I dead?"

He laughed under her again, and it was more pleasant that it had a right to be. "If you were dead, I'd never see you again…. " He trailed off, an infinite sadness creeping into his voice. "You'd be in heaven."

Her breath hitched.

"I'm not allowed there."

Chloé reached out and grabbed a fistful of feathers. Lucifer twitched hard, bucking against her hips. "OW. Dammit, woman!"

They were attached.

He couldn't have seen her do that.

They were .. attached.

Angels have wings. Angels play "Sex words with Friends" on their phones. Did Satan have wings?

She opened her hand and smoothed the crooked feathers, feeling them. He immediately hummed under her. Chloé pushed further, finding a muscled wingbone above her head. Tight clumped feathers gave way to long, broad ones.

"Careful. They get sharp."

She found an edge of a flight feather and hissed. It was like a razor edged chef's knife. She drew her finger back and sucked blood. She involuntarily wondered if her tetanus shot was up to date.

"Lucifer."

"Yes."

"Am I dreaming?"

"No."

She thought about the warm, human body under hers. She'd shot him. She'd seen him bleed. She rested her head down on his chest and listened to his steady heart beat. His lungs. His blood flow. His breath on her hair. His stubble against her hairline.

"The scars on your back."

"Gone now."

God made man in his image.

He made angels that way too? Did God have wings? There's really a God? She shoved it all aside. All of this could be an insane hallucination. And she didn't know if she could still die here, in his arms. Even if it was all real, she was mortal and he was not.

"Lucifer?"

"Yes?"

"Am I safe?"

He reached his arms up around her again and held her tight. It was wonderful. "Yes."

She pressed herself into him, snuggling tightly.

"Chloé?"

"Yes?"

"Are you angry?"

She giggled. "No. But, can you get us out of here?"

"You and I are safe right now, but there's a ton or more of bricks and rubble on top of us. I can't shift my wings and risk you being hurt. If you were under me instead, I might be able to work our way up backwards, and keep you sheltered."

"Do you want to try shifting?"

He considered it. "I'll have to cocoon you very tightly, it might restrict your breathing some. Is that alright?"

"Let's try it. I'll pinch you if I can't breathe."

"This might take a few minutes. The rest of our wait here could get very uncomfortable if I can't unfold them out again."

"Do it already."

She could tell he restrained himself from unleashing new innuendo. He contracted, entangling her legs and pull them up to scrunch into the space, and bring them within his wingspan. She grunted, her trapped feet being yanked into his space, but they made it. Pins and needles instantly invaded her toes, prickling up her heels. Lucifer enfolded her. Rubble shifted above them, and he made a noise.

"Lu-"

"It's okay."

She felt dirt stream through some of the feathers, bringing in the smell of gunpowder. She fought rising panic and he stilled. "It's okay. I'm okay."

Chloé felt him nod. His shoulders worked, feathers pressing around her face and body. Her arms were pinned against his chest. She was breathing the air around his face. He smelled good.

He didn't smell like a bird. She could still breathe.

Wings wrapped around them almost double, he shoved them sideways and turned. She felt like they were fighting inside a feather burrito. It knocked her air off for a second, but she didn't pinch him. He needed to do whatever it was that he needed to do. They got sideways and she gasped.

Panting against each others necks, Lucifer got himself on top of her. She felt his wings strain and push out away, an inch at a time. She tried wiggling her hips and felt a little bit of new space, but not as much as they started with. The rocks settled again with a groan. More debris bounced against her face but she wasn't panicking now.

He gingerly rested on top of her. It took her a minute to realize he was trying to be as much of a gentleman as possible. Chloé reached up and found his neck, felt his face. He jumped.

"Lucifer?"

"Yes, detective?"

"Thank you for saving me."

"Any time."

She pulled his face down and kissed him, in the pitch dark. He relaxed and let his body sink into her. They stayed like that a moment longer. She opened her eyes and could see his face.

His wings were glowing very softly.

She froze, then smacked his chest. "Could you do that this whole time?"

"I'm the Lightbringer dear, of course I could. I didn't want to scare you."

"What?"

"Be not afraid, and all that."

"Lucifer."

"Yes?"

"Why. Are you here?"

"I'm on holiday."

".. What?"

"From hell. Terrible place."

"If I'm not insane, we have a lot to talk about when we get out of here."