Chapter Three: Getting surreal
Dawn broke slowly. Chloe watched its fingers inch their way through the slats of the window blinds and over the sheets with the detached fascination of the sleep deprived.
The scars on his back, the ones she'd barely, for the briefest of moments, touched and he'd given her that look, all pain and hurt and fear, they weren't there when he sat in her kitchen last night, after suddenly returning back into her life after being missing for three days.
At a little before six her phone alarm started to vibrate from the bedside table. Why do I never turn that thing off! She fumbled for it, swiping the thing silent. Aggravated and tired, she swung her feet off the bed and onto the floor. Every damn weekend! She didn't look directly at him, but she knew Lucifer was still asleep. He felt asleep to her: although that might have just been the silence. Carefully, she padded around the bed and grabbed a pair of lounge socks from the dresser on the way to the door. She pulled them up to her knees and stole into the kitchen, thinking to close the door behind her. He needs his sleep.
Because, at some point during the hours she lay awake, thinking constantly, she'd decided he wasn't lying: he really had been in a desert.
He promised he'd never lie to me… That and the supporting evidence: sand, burns, thirst, hunger.
Her traitorous brain betrayed her as she gently pulled the door shut and she caught a glimpse of him asleep. Just a glimpse. His hair, which wasn't quite as black as she'd thought, back when they first met, the hair which was usually so carefully styled to look just so; now alternately stuck up at odd angles and lay flat against his head from his various turns throughout the night.
Dark lashes, long enough to make most women envious, rested against slightly pale skin. A thick layer of stubble covered the lower portion of his face; far past his usual, carefully groomed, growth. His chest, still mottled by burns and grazes, rose and fell with small, comforting movements and she was so not staring at the bare skin on show. The sheets tangled over his stomach and around his long legs.
His feet dangled off the end of her bed and his arm had already been flung to the spot where she had only just vacated. A stretcher, she noted. A stretcher and a sheet thief. Sand clung to the pillows.
Hastily – for all it took only a moment to see everything she did – she turned back to the kitchen. Note to self: change the sheets. For possibly the worst reason ever. Heat rose in her cheeks at the thought she refused to finish about sand in her bed and the uncomfortable places it could end up and other reasons one changed bed sheets.
Maze's door remained ajar – she wasn't back yet. Chloe looked down at her phone and considered texting the other woman (she certainly wouldn't appreciate a phone call at this hour) to let her know that Lucifer was back. She hovered her fingers over the screen for a moment, but then put the phone down on the counter, message unwritten.
It was too early, she reasoned, and Maze had been completely unworried. She'd wait 'til Lucifer woke up, or Maze came home (whichever came sooner).
Part of her wanted to go for a short jog, to take in the morning stillness before the city too awoke proper. She even considered the route she'd take. A clear morning, up at a (slightly in)decent hour, no Trixie, no case – how often did these days come along? She could be selfish for an hour, surely. Just an hour – only forty minutes really, because the rest she'd simply be getting changed and showered. And when Lucifer wakes – you know he will – when you're out? He deserved a better friend than that.
So, instead, she tidied. She cleaned. She puttered. She whiled away an hour and put on some coffee. She turned on the television and switched to a random comedy channel running the old Friends series yet again. She found a box of pancake mix in a cupboard and fudged together enough ingredients for breakfast when Lucifer woke up.
"Maze." She ground out, holding up an empty bottle of maple syrup. Who puts away an empty bottle of anything? That's just stupid!
Honey pancakes was a thing, right? Well, it was now. Like peanut butter and honey sandwiches.
"What's got you smiling so early, Detective?"
Chloe jumped, nearly dropping the bottle. Nice observation skills, Chlo. "Lucifer!"
The man in question leant against the counter, completely at ease with his state of undress. But, since he was also 100% happy being naked that wasn't all that surprising. His hair really was a sight though, and she found herself smiling more. "Maze used up all the syrup."
"And that makes you… happy?"
"Well, no," she said, dropping the empty bottle in the recycling, "I was thinking about peanut butter and honey sandwiches. And your hair."
He smirked his old, sexy, smirk that had so many women falling at his feet. "Food fetish, Detective?"
Chloe poured him a large glass of water and rolled her eyes, not rising to the bait. "Want some pancakes?"
He drank the entire glass of water, smacked his lips, and nodded. "Not a Scotch, but it'll do."
"It's too early for Scotch, Lucifer."
"It's twelve o'clock somewhere, that's what I say."
"Of course you do."
He cocked his head at her, the edges of his lips turned upward. Cute. The thought came unbidden, and she squashed it. Not now, Chloe. "You uh, wanna take a shower?"
The slight smile blew into a grin so wide she thought his face might split at the size of it. Seriously, that man is obsessed! "I thought you'd never ask. Come along, Detective." He held out his hand, looking down at her with that expression that was one-third mischievous, one-third expectant and one-third promise.
He's obsessed! She hit him (gently) with a wooden spoon, giving some leeway to his injuries. "Shower, Lucifer. Alone. Pancakes when you're done."
He huffed, placing his hands on his hips. "If I must, darling."
She wrinkled her nose. "You must."
"Oi, cheeky. Desert smell, this – you can't even buy it! Very hard to come by."
"Go! There're towels in there already, and we can redress your arms when you're dry."
He turned and retreated to the bathroom, giving Chloe another chance to look at his back. Nope, no scars. Had she imagined them? Like the flash she saw in his eyes? Right before I shot him. Because he asked me to? Idiot. But she knew the scars were real – definitely not imagined. That man was a (frustrating) enigma wrapped in a motor-mouthed riddle!
Thankfully for Lucifer, she was willing to set that aside (for now). Sort of. She would resist the rather strong urge to question him like a suspect and continue with trying to discern what had happened to him instead. Besides, she was still clinging to his promise, the one that felt so long ago. Before she learnt about omission and half-truths: when 'truth' had been simple. Sure, he hadn't said the words 'I promise' but the intent had seemed so clear back then, in the car in the darkness of the night, he might as well have done.
"I have never lied to you. And I will never lie to you."
And then he left you and stole your car and got that guy killed. "You are such an idiot, Chloe." She muttered, blindly setting a set of Dan's old clothes in the steamy bathroom with her eyes shut. She'd found the clothes in an old suitcase a few weeks ago, some remnant of a holiday they took when Trixie was still just a toddler, before the Paul Meadows case and before everything fell apart.
Quickly, before he could realise she was there, she dashed out again and resumed making the pancakes, setting the table and generally keeping her hands busy.
A little while later, the door to the bathroom clicked shut. Footsteps tracked to just behind her.
"There: all squeaky clean now, Detective."
Chloe swore she could hear his suggestive gesture to his body– a specific part of his body she was certain. She really wanted to smirk, couldn't resist the urge, even as she flipped the last of the pancakes to finish cooking.
"I need to redress your arms."
He sighed like she was asking some great favour by trying to care for his wounds. "Very well." He stepped forward and, as he was prone to do, stood just a few inches closer than she'd find comfortable from anyone else.
Chloe worked quickly, inspecting the cuts and swabbing them with antiseptic cream before gently pressing the new dressings into place. Thankfully she hadn't been too sleep-addled last night: yes, they were reasonably deep, but probably not deep enough to require stitches.
"There, all done." She skirted an arm around his side, picking up the two plates on the counter and portioning out two stacks. "Pancakes are ready – grab a seat."
"How domestic." He said as she handed him a plate of pancakes and led the way to the table.
"I haven't got any maple syrup so… We have honey, or Nutella, or jam, or peanut butter." At his raised eyebrow – it was a lot of condiments – she shrugged a shoulder, "I didn't know what you liked so…"
"You know neither do I? I've never had pancakes before! I mean… syrups and sweet condiments I know, yes. But on people, not pancakes."
"I – You –" Chloe felt the blood rush to her cheeks at the thought of him licking maple syrup off of her and suddenly words became a challenge. His growing grin didn't help matters; she really wanted to wipe that look off his face. He knew exactly what he was doing with that comment. Grow up, Chloe! "Well then, I guess you should to try them with the good stuff. Wait a sec."
She strode quickly to the cupboard and pulled out an unused Reddi-wip: Maze liked to always have some in just in case. She really didn't need to think about what 'case' that was for. Or Lucifer and whipped cream. What are you, sixteen?
She plopped it onto the table. "Since it's a special occasion, you should do it properly."
The face-splitting grin was back – if she looked, she could have counted nearly every one of his teeth. "And what do you have this for? You really do have a food fetish!"
"It's Maze's."
"Now now, you don't need to lie to me, Detective."
"I'm not lying, Lucifer. C'mon, they're getting cold." Chloe led by example and chose some Nutella for her own pancakes. For someone so obsessed with everything sex-related he acted a lot like a child, so she wasn't surprised when Lucifer followed suit and then placed a bit of every single condiment onto his plate.
The Nutella was a bit thick so Chloe decided to just stick a large spoonful of it on her plate and spread it onto each pancake bite as she went. For a little while, they ate in companionable silence… well, near silence. Lucifer kept making little noises of delight as he tried each of the condiments in turn, with varying levels of enthusiasm.
It seemed to Chloe that whatever made him so quiet, so unlike himself last night, had been banished by the daylight. Or maybe he was just exhausted, reasoned the more logical, less fanciful part of her brain.
But there was one other thing that ate away at her during the long hours of confusion before she awoke this morning. One thing that she couldn't abide not asking, otherwise the questions she kept locked inside might all come bursting out all at once and he might run away for good. One question she felt (possibly, it was near impossible to tell with him) he wouldn't shy away from answering.
"How did you get here?"
He finished his mouthful of pancakes and whipped cream – his second try of that particular topping. "You know, I think the whipped cream is good, but better on people. This Nutella one is better on pancakes, though."
"I like it too. There's a place near the beach that does amazing Nutella crepes – you'd love it." Deflected. Chloe sighed – whilst she was quite adept at seeing it now, when he didn't want to lie, he would sidestep instead, she still fell for it. Frequently. "How did you get here, Lucifer? Last night?"
"Well, I walked Detective, of course. How else?"
"Walked from where, the desert?"
"That'd be a bit of a stretch, don't you think?" He dipped a pancake in Nutella, then covered it in whipped cream.
That's two. Back off, Chloe. "We need to tell Maze you're back."
"Yes, we do. Where is that little demon?"
"She uh, was picking out her evening entertainment when I left Lux." Such odd pet names.
"I bet she was. Can I borrow your phone?"
"Hmm," she nodded, her mouth currently occupied with chewing. "On the side, over there." She gestured with her fork to where she'd left it.
Lucifer rose and walked over in just a few steps, his legs were that long. He typed an apparently brief message and then soon returned to eating in another comfortable silence.
"So, Detective," he said, his voice low, "What should we do now?"
The plates stood in the rack, washed. Chloe dried her hands on a towel and tried not to obsess about how close he was behind her – she could feel his breath on her bare neck. He never stops, she thought.
She turned around, "I need to get dressed, and… and we need to close your case – you're missing, officially."
"That sounds terribly dull. I have a much more fun idea." His eyes flicked down, then rose slowly up and over the full length of her body.
Chloe was suddenly reminded, by the heat of his gaze and the blush setting fire to her cheeks, that she stood there in a cami, shorts, and socks. She cleared her throat awkwardly with a half laugh. Maybe, maybe after the kiss and the beach and the dinner and before the poison and Candy Morningstar and the voicemail and the endless worry and dark, growing dread of the past three days…. Maybe back then. But what's done can't be undone. She was too tired for this. Abruptly, she was angry.
"No, Lucifer." She snapped. There, she saw confusion in his eyes for the briefest of seconds – not at the rejection, she rebuked his advances often enough for it to usually just be a game – but at her sudden tone. "I'll be ready in twenty."
"Well, don't rush your shower on my account darling, I know you like a long one." The confusion was gone, the bravado and meaningless words back. Chloe stared at him for a moment too long, berating herself. You did that. Happy? But she was still too angry and walked straight to the bathroom without more than a "Whatever" tossed over her shoulder.
After a scalding hot shower, one that left her skin pink, Chloe felt better. She was tired, she knew it. She got snappy when she was tired and what she needed last night was a full, long, sleep but instead, she'd spent most of it awake, cleaning her best friend's wounds and lying in bed beside him thinking on an impossible question. Tired was yesterday – she was plain exhausted now. And to top it off, more questions had joined the growing list. Why didn't he go home?
And, unbidden: why am I so glad he came here instead?
She dressed and dried her hair, ignoring that little question, and reminded herself once again that if anything, Lucifer was the victim here - of an actual crime. A felony, in fact. His hedonistic tendencies and constant smart mouth comments often overshadowed all the other facets of his personality and made it difficult to imagine him as a victim. But, in that instance, that's exactly what he was. His arrival last night; his demeanour; his silence, demonstrated that. So: dial down the Bitch, Chlo.
"Are you nearly done? Surely there's not that much involved in your daily rituals… After the shower of course. It doesn't look like it."
She spun around with a jump, smearing lipstick across her cheek. "Knock much?"
"I'm so bored already. I swear the desert had more to do."
"Really? Like what?" She wiped her cheek and finished up.
"Well," He ran a hand through his hair, "Walking, fending off would-be attackers, getting a tan -"
"Attackers? Animals or people?"
"Animals," he said mildly, "Where're we going then? Hopefully to my place, yes? I look uncomfortably like the Douche. I don't like it. And why do you have his clothes? Are you back together?"
"Yes, we can. And I found them in an old suitcase. How would I have gotten back with Dan while you were gone? Why would I? Anyway." She gave him a confused look and gathered her things on their way out. "Then we need to go to the station. What did Maze say?"
"She's fine. I'll catch up with her later." He brushed off the question while she locked the front door, "I'm, glad, I didn't somehow miss you two getting back together. How long was I gone, then?"
"You don't know?" Chloe stilled mid-step and raised an eyebrow at him. Granted it wasn't an entirely unusual question, but it was a little odd.
"Not really. Time got a bit… funny. Out there. Not long, I sense?"
"Three days, Lucifer." She buckled up her seat belt, waited for him to do the same. "You were gone three days." She was driving, so only half concentrating on him, but when he didn't reply straight away she glanced over. "You okay?"
"Yes, Detective." He gave her a small, tight smile. A false smile. I hate that smile. "It just felt like much longer, I suppose."
"Yes, as you can see Olivia I'm absolutely fine, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. Family emergencies, and all that."
Chloe shook her head in disbelief. That man could charm the habit off of a nun… probably had, actually. He'd concocted a simple story, one that he said was true enough from his point of view because he didn't want to turn the last three days into a massive investigation.
She shook her head in disbelief. "You don't want to catch the sickos that did this? What if they come after you again?"
"They won't." he said, "And as for punishment… I can be very patient, Detective. When I need to be."
And that was that. He'd refused to elaborate further and insisted they close his missing person case completely. The story was simple and believable: shortly after hanging up, his brother arrived and told him about a family emergency that was desperate enough for him to leave straight away and get caught up in for a few days. As soon as he was able, he'd returned and found out about the fuss. Arrived at his good friend Detective Decker's house to start sorting things out. He was terribly sorry for the confusion. And could you believe he'd lost his phone as well? Talk about bad timing.
He perched on the end of her desk with a cheeky grin to her and a wink to the departing Lieutenant. "There, all cleared up. In fact, it's like I was never gone."
"Just like that?" She stood up and leaned next to him, continuing quietly, "I thought you didn't lie?"
"Like I said, it all depends on your point of view." He gave her that half smile, all teeth and slightly hard at the edges, "I don't lie – I still have my pride, Detective."
"Right…"
"So? Do we have any cases? Anybody to punish?"
"Not right now, no."
"Oh. Well. Off to Maze's then! Give me a ride, Detective?"
She quirked an eyebrow and forestalled the incoming suggestive comment. "I'll take you to wherever you need. Don't you want to get your car?"
"Not yet, no. It's been three days, Detective. I need you to fill me in on all the juicy details! What did I miss?"
"In three days? Not much, Lucifer." Chloe grabbed her badge and phone and gestured to the stairs. Since apparently, they were leaving. "Seriously, you want me to pay chauffer? You hate my driving."
"Yes, but I missed you. So! Putting up with your driving for a bit seems tenable."
"You missed me?"
"Of course, Detective. And Maze too, oddly. And Linda. Even your spawn."
"But… in three days? You're willing to put up with my driving, which you hate, after three days." She squinted at him. Nope – same Lucifer.
"What can I say, Detective? It felt much longer to me."