Author's Note- I want to take this time to express my gratitude towards all those who took time to read and review this short fic. Honestly, I didn't have intention of making it longer than a chapter or two but then it just sort of exploded, lol. This is my first Lucifer fic and I've had a blast writing it. Like all good things, this, too, is coming to an end. I will more than likely create more fics in the future – I already have ideas for some – and I hope everyone who has kept faith with me throughout this journey will continue to do so later on. :)
Ch. 7 – Atonement
written by Celtic Pixie
..
"People have to forgive. We don't have to like them, we don't have to be friends with them, we don't have to send them hearts in text messages, but we have to forgive them, to overlook, to forget. Because if we don't we are tying rocks to our feet, too much for our wings to carry!"
― C. JoyBell C.
"He knew these last lines by heart and mouthed them now in the darkness. My reason for life. Not living, but life. That was the touch. And she was his reason for life, and why he must survive."
― Ian McEwan, Atonement
..
Eve returned from the fridge with a green apple in hand, which she let stand on the wood cutting board, then walked around the bar, briefly nuzzling herself against Lucifer's shoulder.
"You know," she reached for two martini glasses, "I'm really happy you're going back to work." Glasses in hand, Eve meandered her way to the other side of the bar as Lucifer finalized the stainless-steal mixer with all necessary ingredients. "Once we got ESPN up there forget it."
"Well, sadly," he gave the mixer a good shake, "there'll be a lot less lying around here now that I'm back to catching killers. But there are certain perks to having a boyfriend who works with the LAPD. An endless supply of handcuffs, for one." It seemed foreign—the word boyfriend. Even as the word rolled off his tongue, he realized it would be something he'd have to get used to.
Surprised, Eve raised a brow, "Boyfriend?"
"Well, I…" he thought about it; it was the least he could try admitting to, "once someone tends to you when you're bleeding to death, it's only good manners to make it official."
They kissed. Their kiss felt different. It wasn't like kissing Chloe. Where the detective had a way of leaving his lips tingling after they parted, with Eve—it was nice, sure, but it… it just wasn't the same. Lucifer liked her well enough but kissing her—unlike the detective—didn't leave a flutter in his chest.
After the kiss, Eve asked, "So, we're really doing this?" Unaware that it hadn't been her that was still on Lucifer's mind.
"I'll finish making your drink and we'll toast to it."
The blade came down on Lucifer's finger, "Ooh!" While the sharp knife blade would have normally broken skin, Lucifer merely felt the sensation of it; his flesh remained intact.
"Careful!" Eve immediately reached for his hand but was quite shocked to see the knife hadn't sliced open his finger. "You're fine." She seemed perturbed when he returned to slicing the apple, brushing it off like nothing had happened, that she didn't just see what she did. "What is it with you only getting injured sometimes?"
Lucifer spoke without thinking, "Oh, I'm only vulnerable when the detective's around."
"What?"
Completely oblivious to Eve's discomfort, Lucifer exclaimed, "Oh! I total forgot. My snake costume finally arrived. You are going to love this!"
Lucifer abandoned the martini glasses and rushed off towards his bedroom. Meanwhile, Eve was still standing there, perplexed about his revelation. It probably should have occurred to her last night after the shooting incident but she was far too concerned for him in the moment to process anything logically.
In the time it took for him to disappear from sight, she started looking at the elevator and just for a moment, she actually thought about drinking downstairs as opposed to up here with him.
The wail of nearby sirens was unmistakable.
Lucifer stormed from the bar, hastening his pace as he turned a corner. He heard the click-clack of heels coming up behind him and knew Eve had been following him. Just so long as it wasn't the detective.
She called from behind him, "Lucifer!" and quickened her stride to keep up with him. He plucked the pocket square from his breast pocket and pressed it tight to his shoulder. "Are you okay?" She asked, catching up.
"I will be."
Eve skipped ahead. "No, I mean—I saw what happened back there with the detective." She exhaled, slowly, then asked, despite a subtle expression change on Lucifer's face. "You weren't just work partners, were you?" Earlier at the chateau, just now inside the bar—Eve knew there was much more that he just wasn't saying.
His answer was stiff, "It doesn't matter. It's over." His voice sounded bitter and cold.
Lucifer tried stepping around her.
"Well," she put her hands against his arm, forcing him to halt, "how come that pool stick hurt you, but the bullet to the head didn't?"
"I.." The question caught him off guard, one he definitely did have the answer to but one he'd be more inclined to answer when he wasn't bleeding. "Look, I will explain later, but for now, we just need to get out of here. Come up with a new bloody plan to retrieve that necklace…"
Lucifer strode past her, wondering if this was even bloody worth it.
The walk-in closet adopted a more elegant, masculine, and classy look, utilizing solid mahogany paneled cabinets and matching drawers. Most of the clothing cabinets used glass doors to give it a more modern twist. The contents inside entirely visible. This closet also contained a few storage nooks and a bench in the middle aisle. Seated somewhere around the bench were two black arcane-style chairs with dragons carved into the arm rests. He hardly used these; they were more for decoration.
The snake costume he came to look for was hanging up on one of the hangers in the far back. Unlike all of his luxurious designer suits, the costume wasn't kept behind a glass panel framed in mahogany. As he plucked it from the hanger, his eyes caught sight of a white Thom Browne 4-Bay button-down just precariously resting there, the fabric spilling over the edge of the nook, brushing the drawers. Lucifer habitually strived not to get himself choked up on emotions but his throat felt taunt just then, and he considered giving it a toss in the rubbish. Instead, he folded it away in the top drawer of the dresser, where a small pile of Chloe's clothing had already been. That drawer got closed immediately, and Lucifer ambled from the closet in a rush.
His snake costume dangling over his left arm, he rejoined his girlfriend—the idea still seemed off-putting—in the living slash dining area; "Here we are!" Lucifer exclaimed, proudly, then unfurled the costume, airing it out a bit, holding it upright so Eve could see it clearly. "What do you think?"
Eve was already sipping her martini. When he waltzed back in, she was paying attention, "Wow, Luce! It looks fantastic. Maybe later you could—" Pushing herself up, she slinked her way across the floor to where he was standing, "—I don't know, tempt me with sin." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Lucifer grinned, "Always, darling."
Their second kiss was less gentle, more intense. She murmured something incoherent against his mouth, which gradually melted into a pleasurable moaning. His fingers brushed against her neck, pushing hair away from her olive-toned skin.
Lucifer just started reaching further when his phone started buzzing on the piano. He groaned, outwardly, and very much contemplated tossing the contraption from the balcony. A case of mobile interruptus as he called it.
A flash across the screen indicated a missed message. "What is it, Luce…?" Eve quired, trying to get a glimpse of the phone screen, but shushed as he gestured for her to do so.
He recognized the number as Chloe's.
Lucifer experienced a perception of apprehension as the missed message glared up at him, taunting him, and for a split second, he did seriously contemplate scrapping it. Instead, he chose to take a listen.
"Luce..?" Eve reached for him.
He lowered his phone, then glanced at her a moment, "So sorry, love, but I need to go." He left her behind without an explanation, pocketing his phone and grabbing his blazer as he dipped into the elevator.
~.~.~.~.~
His first thought was a pit-stop at the precinct. He asked about the detective; surely she'd be somewhere; at her desk, perhaps. But Espinoza said she called in for the day. Lucifer didn't stay to chat, not that he'd want to with the douche, anyway. He attempted to call her himself but when he got her voicemail, he decided against it. Calling out from work, not picking up her phone—this was unlike her; he was concerned.
He found an alley somewhere behind the precinct, somewhere shrouded in shadow, and there is where he felt safe enough to unfurl his wings.
Lucifer took extraordinarily little time reaching Chloe's apartment, hardly bothering to knock as his wings folded back in. Though he would normally try to make such an effort as to knock before entering, he seemed perturbed enough to waltz inside; the door, he discovered, had been left unlocked.
His immediate observation told him few things-dishes in the sink, unfolded clothes on the couch, empty bottles of Pinot Noir on the counter. This was unlike the detective. She preferred neat and uncluttered over disorderly chaos.
He thought she could be on the back porch, or maybe seated in front of the couch, but then he caught wind of her terrible choice in 90s music, and ultimately decided to follow the melody upstairs. The music crescendos the closer Lucifer drew towards Chloe's bedroom.
He veered through the doorway, catching a slight wind of what sounded like crying, "Detective, I tried phoning you but-" Somewhere sandwiched between her bedframe and the wall, nursing a glass of Pinot between her palms, he found the detective. She was looking kind of haggard; bags under her eyes, clothing wrinkled—probably hadn't showered since yesterday, either. And smashed against the wall was her cell phone. He thought seriously about backtracking, retreating back to the penthouse, "This pathetic, feeling-sorry-for-yourself look doesn't suit you at all, detective," he quipped, typical sarcasm bleeding through his voice.
"Oh, really? I kind of, sort of, thought it….fit, considering…" Chloe mused, studying with silent fascination as the liquid swiveled around the bottom of her wine glass. Exhaling, sharply, she lifted her head and their eyes finally met. "…you're doing well, I see…" …oh my gosh, I didn't think he'd be here. She smiled, or tried to, but her mouth didn't quite correctly move that way.
Lucifer's head gradually moved up and down, "Yes, well, here I am… alive and in one piece," She started moving, squirming, and twisting against the side of her bed until she could stand up, then scrambled across the top with all the grace of a newborn gazelle find its legs for the first time. "Wait, detective, just… oh, never mind…" Chloe disappeared into the bottom drawer of her nightstand only to reemerge with another bottle of liquor—one that was definitely not wine—and two matching Gentlemen Jack glasses.
She pointed at him, gesturing as she poured, "How's Eve?"
"She's… she's well."
"Good. Good," she simply nodded her head, unsure if what passed through her lips was indeed true or she was just saying it for the sake of doing so. "She was worried about you. Hardly left your side. I was just telling Amenadiel I practically had to force herself to," she chuckled, then her eyes narrowed, "Wait, what are you doing here?"
"When you began you message by stating how many glasses of Merlot you had," he explained, perhaps a slight chuckle to accompany, "and draw out this winded apology, I got concerned. We both know you don't handle your alcohol very well."
"Lies! All lies! I handle it v-very well indeed."
Chloe puffed out her lips, expelling air from her lungs in rapid succession, the waved her left hand in an insensible motion, then extended the glass towards him, muttering incoherent nonsense, then unceremoniously endeavoring to facilitate a glass of whiskey for herself.
Exhaling, Lucifer down beside her, scoffing, "Right, because you're so admirably displaying otherwise," he snatched the bottle and poured her a glass, then re-corked the bottle, and let it rest between their legs.
"Pfft!" she tutted, brushing her hand through air, dismissing what he was saying, "Alright, so maybe I just needed a drink… or two. This isn't the first time I've been like this." Chloe sipped at her whiskey like she was sucking a bottle, occasionally slipping a drop here and there on her pale green sweater.
"Detective Douche break up with you over text again?" Lucifer smirked, until she glared, "Right. Right. So, if that's not it then all of this is bec—" She interrupted, pouting.
Chloe guzzled the rest of her whiskey, "Because! Because, I fucked up in the most colossal way! Look what happened with Detective Douche," Lucifer smirked; hearing her calling Dan that was comical, "and we hardly interact except at work and when Trixie is involved. Oh! And Janet from Cyber Crimes! She and, um, what was his name again…?"
"…Brad?"
She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, "No, that's not it. Um…Oh! Nathan!" Her fingers snapped as it dawned on her, "That's it! Yeah, they had a nasty break up and they said they'd be professional at work but we both know how well that turned out and then Nathan transferred." Chloe reached for the bottle, but Lucifer's hand was blocking it.
"Detective, I do not have any hatred for you if that's what you are getting at," he assured her, sensing she was leading that way, then retracted his hand so she could refill her glass, yet seemed amused when she decided drinking straight from the source was the better alternative, "What chanced amongst Janet and Nathan or even concerning you and the Douche will not materialize with us. I promise you, and I am a Devil at my word, detective. We are partners, you and I."
Chloe trundled her shoulders, "You sure about that?"
"Quite."
He embraced her, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. Chloe sighed, contently, briefly nuzzling her head against his thick, warm chest, and then smiling when he exhaled, her head bobbing up and down with the rhythmic movements. She adjusted her position, inclining her head just a bit, and then curled her other arm around his waist. Having Lucifer comb his fingers through her hair was a thing she didn't know she needed until he was doing it, and the feeling was so relaxing.
His nose touched the crown of her head, grazing it gently, allowing the fragrance from the follicles to waft past his nostrils. His fingers trickled down the back of her head, brushing over the base of her skull and then the nape of her pale neck. He allowed his fingers to trapse even further, until he found that one spot along her spine and began stroking there.
Chloe evicted an indecorous sound someplace from her throat, "mm, yes, that feels so good…" she muttered-slash-chuckled and groaned once more as a shiver surged through her spine, a warm, electric sensation pulsing in her bloodstream.
His technique varied between bed mates, and although Chloe hardly fell into that category, Lucifer knew exactly how to make her feel good. His touch was firm, but also gentle, rubbing long strokes along the muscles at the base of her neck. He utilized his thumb around the general area of tension, working out the problematic knots. Lucifer relaxed his palm flat in the middle of her shoulder blades, and she instinctively drew a deep breath, exhaling in deliberately sluggish spurts, instead of all at once. They replicated the action, and Chloe sighed in relief, feeling such a weight of stress lift from her body.
Lucifer sighed comfortably, ceasing his menstruations, and the detective groaned in protest, "Go take a shower, I'll handle the mess downstairs," he suggested.
He disengaged himself from her, pushing his body against the wall until he was standing, then proceeded to extend a hand and help Chloe do the same.
The heavily inebriated detective teetered against Lucifer's massive frame. His hands braced against her shoulders to keep her steady on her feet, then ever so cautiously pivoted her around and gently nudged her towards the bathroom. Once the bathroom door had been closed, he turned out of the detective's bedroom and wandered off downstairs.
Lucifer decided tackling the dishes in the sink would be his first priority, so he tossed a dish towel over his left shoulder and got down to work. Disgustingly domestic—that's what Maze would say to this, and he would tell her she was reaching. Her assumptions were well beyond her pay grade, and he stopped paying her years ago, so, most definitely above her pay grade.
His cell began tolling.
The kitchen sink flicked off so he could answer. Eve's name flashed on the screen. He sighed, a bit hesitant to answer, yet her did, "Eve, darling, yes, I apologize but—" Lucifer's eyes darted towards the stairs; the detective had finished her shower, "—listen, the case, well… it's taking longer than I had planned so, it looks like we will have to post-pone that celebratory drink." It wasn't a lie; there really was a case, and it was taking longer than planned.
Lucifer squandered all style of intelligible speech as the detective re-emerged, now sporting a pair of blue jeans and a long sleeved black and red plaid button-up top, her hair combed out neatly, cascading in ringlets over her shoulders.
Somewhat unstable on her feet still, Chloe palmed the wall in her decent. She managed to wobble her way towards the kitchen, then pluck a bar stool towards her. She yipped as her backside hardly made contact with the surface of the stool, and suddenly Lucifer was right there to keep her balanced so she didn't collapse on the floor.
Doing so almost cost him to drop his cell phone, yet he ungracefully managed to hang onto it, juggling it from shoulder to hand and back to shoulder, "What? Oh, yes, everything is well, darling. I'll be home later. Don't wait up yes? Yes, right, okay. Must dash," the phone slid from his shoulder and he thumbed over the end call button. He slipped the mobile device into his breast pocket then flashed a grin. "That was Eve," he stated, as if the detective couldn't deduce that part on her own, then he added, "my girlfriend. We, we made it official today."
Chloe recognized the familiar jab in her chest, "Oh! Your, your girlfriend. Well, that's… well, that's fantastic. I'm glad. I think she'll be good for you. I… I really, I really do… " Her attempts to hide her emotions, especially with her intoxication lowering her inhibitions, wasn't panning out well, and her face was feeling heated.
"Detective – " he frowned, noting the deepened color of her cheeks, " – are you quite alright?"
"Hm? Oh, yes, I'm good," she nodded in the affirmative, re-adjusting the way she sat on the bar stool, either to make herself appear more comfortable, or to distract herself; her mind confused her as to which.
"Perfect."
He promptly resumed to his task, until the sink was emptied and the dishwasher was loaded, locked, and set up for a normal wash.
Then, Lucifer decided to make some tea. Shocking; the Devil had beverage tastes that weren't strictly coffee or heavy amounts of alcohol – I don't get drunk off normal human amounts of alcohol, detective; I just like the taste of it… but, he had those moments, especially when engrossed in a good book, that a steaming hot cuppa was just what the proverbial doctor ordered.
After pouring through the detective's selection of teas, Lucifer decided upon ginger, surpassing the peppermint even though he was well aware of the similar gastric-calming effects as the ginger tea.
Ginger tea contained loads of active phenol compounds such as shogaols and gingerols, which soothe the stomach, reducing the symptoms of tummy upset associated with heavy drinking – nausea, vomiting, abdominal pain; all things he learned from his eons of life, and having experiments of his own; hangovers, shockingly, not being one of those. As the saying goes—he drinks and he knows things…
Lucifer used two tea bags whenever he made himself a cuppa, so he decided on doing the same with the detective and opted for a simple coffee mug from the cabinet. He'd been to her place so often that he had the whole thing mapped out, down to the minute detail.
Chloe graciously thanked him, before giving the steaming liquid a couple air puffs; "You don't have to take care of me, ya know – " her fingers played with the rim of the cup, " – but I'm grateful you stayed."
"Of course, detective." He flashed a toothy smile.
She pursed her lips, gently blowing on her tea again, then exhaled, and asked, "Lucifer, I know I have much to atone for but… if you could ever find it in your heart, to ever… forgive me –"
"Detective," he was mid-way in applying tea bags to a cup of his choosing, "as I've told you before, we are partners, you and I – " even though he once considered dissolving their partnership, until it was clear to him that he didn't wish it despite being furious with her, " – and I will have your back, okay? That is a deal, and a deal with the devil is binding."
Chloe smiled, "Okay."