Prompt:

14. "I'll take the couch."

juxtaposition
/ˌdʒʌkstəpəˈzɪʃ(ə)n/
noun
the fact of two things being seen or placed close together with contrasting effect.

Chapter 3: Juxtaposition

Someone must really hate her in the universe.

Probably God.

Because why else would the department send her and Lucifer to a two-day stakeout when they were in the middle of a fight? When things are being the most awkward between them because of a stupid misunderstanding?

It all started with a case, of course, but this time, Lucifer came with her to notify the family of the death of their loved one. She usually doesn't bring him to this part of the investigation, but ever since she found out that her consultant is the literal Devil, their partnership has evolved and he became more involved with the police work - he even stays for the "boring stuff".

And when she realized it would be the first time Lucifer will be present for this, she may have made a not so sensitive comment about his non-existent verbal filter and empathy not being his strongest suit.

She expected a pout and some quip about how he can behave if he wanted to, but what she did not expect was the wounded and deeply hurt look he gave her right before he demanded if she perhaps thought of him as a monster incapable of feelings even after weeks of knowing who he truly was and working alongside him just fine until now.

To say that she was shocked was an understatement, but before she could explain that she had long since come to terms with his true identity and dive into statistics about him making inappropriate jokes in front of a victim's relative, he practically flew out of the car and stalked away angrily, not looking back.

And so, ever since that day, he's been giving her the cold shoulder and only answering her when it's necessary and only in one-syllable words. And now they were stuck on this trip for 48 hours. She would do anything to be anywhere else but here.

But sadly, the bad guys won't catch themselves.

By the time they make it to a moderately nice hotel (which has four stars, because "Every establishment with less than four stars are absolute hellholes and trust me, Detective, I would know. I have literally lived there for millenniums"), her eyes are starting to get heavy and there's a crick in her shoulders when she rolls them in her seat as she finds a parking spot. But these symptoms have probably more to do with her companion's silent treatment and spending hours finding a hotel that would fit into the department's budget and satisfy Lucifer's snobbishness.

She can practically feel the same tiredness radiating from him, but she doesn't think anything she says will help the tension between them.

She's about ready to attack the mini fridge and call it a day.

Their room is actually lovely; it's more than big enough for the two of them and it even has a small living area.

She hears Lucifer heaving a frustrated sigh beside her and she looks up and notices as his eyes are fixed on the only bed in the room. She could laugh, or cry, because this is playing out just like every teen movie she's ever watched. In the world of Hollywood, they would make up in the end and it would be all rainbows and unicorns.

But this isn't Hollywood (at least, not for a few days) and they will continue to step on eggshells around each other for a long time.

Or at least until his stubbornness runs out and they can finally talk this out like adults.

"I'll take the couch," he declares suddenly and busies himself with checking the outlets and the shower and stupid, mundane things like that just to avoid acknowledging her presence any longer.

Chloe doesn't even try to argue with his chosen sleeping arrangement, because one, he wouldn't listen to her, and two, she's not even sure it would be a good idea for them to sleep so close to each other. Not that she would mind, of course, she has been entertaining the idea of them moving forward in their relationship that she knows the whole truth for a while now.

So she just takes a deep breath and plops down on the bed, taking out the case file from her bag and spreading it out on the sheets. Just as she's reading over their suspect's criminal history, Lucifer appears in her line of sight and grabs a document before settling down on the opposite side of the bed, farthest from her.

He got rid of his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, and Chloe has to force herself to focus on the paper in her hands instead of his muscular forearms. For good measure, she also reminds herself that they are not exactly on speaking terms, so ogling her Devilish partner is kind of out of the question now.

They quickly go over the case, taking notes for tomorrow's stakeout, exchanging ideas of different theories and angles, but their conversation remains strictly work-related. And when she tries to not so subtly change the subject "Maybe we should order some room service and continue this tomorrow morning, I'm starving" he rises from the bed and fiddles with the top bottom of his vest for a moment before giving her a quick glance.

"You do that, Detective. I, on the other hand, swing by the bar downstairs. The content of the mini fridge is simply dreary," he shudders slightly and pulls on his jacket before walking to the door. He pauses for a moment and she looks up just in time to catch the somber look on his face and the sad twitch of his mouth as he glances back at her before quickly slipping out the door.

Chloe frowns and stares at the closed door for a minute, trying to understand the change in his demeanor because up until now, he only gifted her a rather indifferent side of him. Maybe she wasn't looking hard enough?

Was she losing him?

Did her stupid comment cut him deeper than she realized? And if so, why?

She's aware that she won't find the answers to these questions unless they talk - really talk - but a mild headache is starting to creep up on her and only now she realizes how tired she is.

She decides to quickly look over the case one last time, but after ten minutes of staring at the same sentence and her thoughts keep jumping to her damned partner, she sighs and throws the wretched folder back in her bag. It's time to officially call it a day and get ready for bed.

She grabs a pillow and a blanket and deposits them on the couch for Lucifer. She regards the furniture with a scowl and glances back at the bed; there's enough space for the both of them - well, if they sleep pressed together, that is. Her face suddenly feels strangely warm at the thought and she shakes her head.

There's no way his mulishness would make him abandon the couch, even if he has to fold his long limbs at an impossible angle to fit comfortably on it.

Once she's settled against the soft pillows on the bed and pulls the blanket over her body, she feels incredibly drained. It isn't just from the four-hour drive to this hotel, but everything from the last few days between her and Lucifer.

Her stupid mind starts to analyze their every moment during that period of time instead of shutting off and taking her to Dreamland. She noticed he became distant, not just emotionally, but physically too - he didn't invade her personal space anymore, he was careful not to touch her when she handed him a paper or a mug, or simply anything. He only glanced at her when she addressed him, or when he thought she wasn't looking. While interrogating suspects, he didn't sit down next to her as he did so regularly, instead, he chose to stand at the far corner of the room.

Chloe frowns at the dark ceiling. If her years and experience as a detective and profiler thought her anything, it's as if he's trying to be as non-threatening to her as possible.

But why the hell would he do that? He knows she's not afraid of him, doesn't he?

Doesn't he?

Is it how things are going to be between them now? One of them says something that hurts the other and there is no going back? Because it seems that he got this notion in his head that she can't possibly accept his true nature and no matter what she does, she can't change his mind.

Which is no surprise really, because once he gets something in his stupid thick skull there is no changing that. But she will be damned if she won't try. Because it's not worth losing each other over.

When she turns on her side, a single tear cascades down her cheek and vanishes in the soft material of the pillow, leaving a tiny wet patch behind. And then the door suddenly opens behind her and Lucifer saunters in, trying to make as little noise as possible. He probably thinks she's asleep.

She glances at the bedside clock - 2 a.m. Wow, her brooding certainly took too long.

From the corner of her eye, she watches as he walks to the couch and pauses when his eyes land on the bedclothes. His brows knit together and then he gives her resting form a glance over like he does so many times when he doesn't understand her actions or what she's saying to him.

He then steps into the bathroom to take a quick shower and change, and when he emerges again, he's only wearing black boxer briefs and Chloe's breath catches in her throat. It's not like it's the first time she sees him almost naked - because the Devil likes to lose the fabric and is not ashamed to show some skin - and it's not like she hasn't actually seen him naked. But this time she knows everything about him and she's quite ready to climb that particular tree.

If only they weren't fighting.

If he noticed that she's only pretending to be asleep, he doesn't show it and lies down on the couch, pulling the blanket over his slender form and arranges the pillow under his head. She hears him toss and turn for a couple of minutes, no doubt having trouble finding a comfortable position because of his long limbs. He lets out an irritated sigh and shifts to lay on his back, his feet dangling from the end of the couch.

He presents a pitiful sight and Chloe can't take this any longer. If he refuses to sleep on the bed beside her then she will drag him there herself even if he kicks and screams. Screw his stubbornness, there's no reason for him to suffer.

"Lucifer, there's plenty of space in this bed. You really don't need to sleep on the couch" she risks, and he jerks his head her way, seemingly surprised that she's awake.

Guess his divine senses doesn't work that much on her these days.

"No, thank you, Detective," he replies curtly and shifts to his side again, smacking his pillow gently for good measure.

She lets him wiggle for a few minutes before she's out of bed because this is ridiculous.

"Come on, Lucifer, you're too big for that thing."

If she hadn't appeared so suddenly in front of him, she's positive he would've made a terrible pun at her words. Instead, he sits up suddenly, looking around like a deer caught in the headlights. He lets out an anxious "Detective?!" and tries to scramble away from her on the tiny surface.

Chloe, on the other hand, is starting to really lose her temper, because why the hell is he acting like she will transfer him cooties when she's near him? Does he hate her that much? Or is it just her earlier theory about him thinking she's afraid of him?

"Ok, what the hell is going on, Lucifer? If you're still upset about that stupid comment, then just talk to me!" she demands loudly.

He looks taken aback by her mini outburst. "I...Detective, it's…" he falters and still doesn't know how to respond to her proximity.

It hurts her. Because up until that day, he had no problem invading her personal space and throwing flirty comments her way. It hurts, because he never pretended with her, never acted any different than absolutely himself.

She doesn't wait for him to collect his thoughts and try to give her some lame explanation that skirts around the truth - because he never lies - so she launches into her improvised speech, looking into his dark and wide eyes determinedly.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said that day, okay? I didn't mean it like that," she stresses with a small smile. "I know you have empathy and you are very thoughtful when you want to be." He scoffs and she shakes her head. Finally some familiarity. "It was a new territory in our partnership and I guess I panicked. I should have trusted you. I really am sorry, Lucifer."

His gaze softens for the briefest of seconds before he looks away. "No need for that, Detective. I understand."

"Understand what?" She really has no clue what he's talking about.

"That you are scared of me, of course," he grins without any humor in his eyes.

Wait, what?

It's official - Satan has lost his mind.

She stands up from her crouched position in front of the couch abruptly and sees as defeat flicks over his ancient brown eyes.

Why is it that he's like a billion years old and still acts like a total idiot sometimes?

And then she sits down on his lap and takes his face in her hands. "Does this feel like I'm afraid of you?" She keeps her eyes firmly trained on his and trying hard not acknowledge how only his boxer briefs makes him not absolutely naked. Now it's not the time.

Lucifer's expression, on the other hand, looks straight out comical with his alarmed gaze and his mouth closing and opening again and again, like a fish out of water. He's the definition of getting caught off guard. "Detective, what…"

"You are the Devil. But you are also my partner, my best friend," and someday, maybe more, she adds to herself and then caresses his cheek for emphases. "Do you really think we would still be partners if I thought of you any less? Nothing has changed for me, except that now I understand some of your weirdness," she lets out a soft laugh and hopes it's enough to erase that lost look on his face.

He finally moves and doesn't resemble a rock under her anymore, putting a tentative hand on her shirt-clad waist, his eyes full of wonder and hope, but she detects a small amount of doubt as well. "Do you really mean that, Detective?"

"I do," and she confirms with a chaste kiss to his parted lips. Oh, how long she's wanted to do that.

He responds almost immediately, tightening his hold on her waist, but it doesn't go much further than that because apparently, he has something to say to her too and gently pulls away.

"I must apologize too, Detective," he starts and she frowns. "I may have overreacted a bit that day, it wasn't my intention to hurt you. It's just that you took all of this - all of me - so easily, and I believe I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak," he gives her a self-deprecating smile.

"There is no other shoe, I promise. We are good, right?" she rakes her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck and he relaxes under her touch.

"I very well hope so, Detective," his eyes regain some of that twinkle that she missed so much.

"So can we go to bed now?"

"Oh, we sure can, darling," he winks and grants her a salacious smirk.

Aaand he's back.

"To sleep," she clarifies and grins at him as she untangles herself from his lap and takes his hand to lead them to the bed.

She suddenly feels like a huge boulder had rolled off her heart as they settle beside each other, because they are going to be fine. They may still fight in the future, God knows they are too different not to, but she knows they will find their way back to each other, no matter what.

"Whatever you desire, darling."

And they fall asleep to each other's breathing, engulfed in their own little bubble of Heaven.