Author's note: I'm sorry, I've tried every way I can think of to get my formatting for scene breaks to load without having to go back in and add them for every new post, and I can't figure out how to make it happen without taking up 20 minutes of my time every time I post. Hopefully it's not too terribly difficult to follow where the scene breaks occur.
Chapter 3
He protests the entire way to the cruiser, and continues to resist until she gently places two fingers on his chest and lightly pushes him backward into the passenger seat. He looks up at her, shocked that she'd managed to move him so easily.
"You're beyond exhausted," she explains quietly. "Sleep deprivation is dangerous, Lucifer, if you really haven't slept in a week, you're not safe to drive, or to do anything other than sleep. If you're worried about… sleep-flying, or… or whatever, I'll watch out for you, okay?"
"Detective, I can't—"
"This is not an option, Lucifer," she says firmly, nudging his feet with hers until he swings them into the car so she can close the door. "It's not an invitation, it's not a proposition. This is me, helping my partner because he refuses to help himself. People have to sleep."
"I'm not human, remember?" he says petulantly through the closed window, and it's not hard to roll her eyes as she circles the car to her side, even though she now really knows that he's not. "I don't need—"
"Clearly even the devil needs sleep, Lucifer, because you're all but dead on your feet," she points out as she climbs into the driver's seat.
"Believe me, Detective," he grumbles, I know what dead feels like, and it's nowhere near this miserable."
"Oh yeah?" she lifts an eyebrow at him. "Why don't you tell me about that, then? If you can stay awake." She smirks as he stifles an enormous yawn.
"You already know, darling," he slurs, leaning his tousled head against the window, dark eyes watching her warily. "I told you both times, even if you don't believe me."
"Tell me again?" she wheedles, and his sigh is long-suffering. "You never really gave me details, you know."
"I don't understand why you're suddenly pretending to be interested," he argues half-heartedly, "we both know that you merely believe me to be spinning an elaborate web of metaphors rather than telling you the absolute truth."
"Maybe I'm willing to be persuaded," she throws out casually, "or maybe you could actually show me some proof of your claims?"
"I tried, Detective, after my devil-napping!" his eyes focus on nothing outside the window, or perhaps he's watching her reflection in the glass. "I was coming to tell you everything just before that, but now… I've told you, my father has taken my devil face, so I can't show you."
"And there's really no other way you could prove you're the devil." Chloe states flatly, disbelief dripping from every word. "You said your wings are back."
"They are, but they're not an accurate reflection of who I am," he argues stridently, "I am not an angel, I haven't been for a very long time, and I'd really rather you think I'm delusional than believe better of me than I deserve because of those feathery nuisances! I've shown you my strength, my abilities to draw out desires… of course you're stubbornly immune to my charm… and you've completely ignored them." He sighs, head bowed. "I know I'm the devil, but… I just wish you could believe in me, Detective."
"Tell me about your face, then, Lucifer," she suggests gently. Tell me anything. "Why is it a more accurate representation of you than your wings?"
"My wings represent my father, divinity and light," he murmurs, his forehead resting heavily against the window. "That's why I was so frantic to find them when Amenadiel had them stolen—the divinity in them can drive humans to a kind of madness. I refuse to be my father's creature ever again, so when he put them back on me, I kept cutting them off… again and again, and he would just slap them right back on. I've finally given up… too time consuming, and Maze won't help me anymore. My face… my face reflected what I became when I was cast into Hell… a monster. And he's taken it away."
Chloe considers this quietly for a while, both hands on the wheel as she focuses on the drive back to her apartment. She remembers the enormous, badly-healed scars on his back, and tries to imagine inflicting that on yourself… not once, but multiple times. The amount of pain… the blood loss… even if he heals as quickly as he says he does, it wouldn't be a quick or pleasant procedure, especially if he was cutting them off himself. Lucifer's breathing deepens and evens next to her, and when she looks he's sagged against the door, sound asleep. Her chest tightens as she takes in the dark bags under his eyes and the lines around them that haven't relaxed even in sleep.
"Lucifer, I need you to really talk to me," she whispers, gripping the wheel tightly in her hands as she turns into her neighborhood. A niggling voice in the back of her mind speaks up, Come on, Decker, you can't even talk to him, can't even tell him you believe him. How can you expect him to just open up to you now, when you've disregarded him so many times? And it's true that he's continuing to talk with her as he always has—telling her anything she wishes to know… but it feels all wrong because he doesn't know that she knows.
She pulls into her parking space and shuts off the engine, rubbing her palms roughly over her face. She reaches over and gently shakes his shoulder, with no acknowledgement.
"Lucifer," she calls, shaking him a bit harder, to his apparent dismay. He groans and turns away from her, pressing further against the door in an attempt to escape the onslaught. "C'mon Lucifer, let's get inside so you can sleep more comfortably."
"Nnnnn," he curls in on himself, making a negative sound deep in his throat, and she chuckles at the resemblance to trying to wake Trixie for school. She half expects him to come back with, 'Five more minutes!'.
She exits the car, walks around to the passenger side and opens the door, causing him to jolt awake or fall out of his seat. He wakes with a gasp, looking around disoriented before looking up at her in confusion.
"Come on," she holds out a hand and he stares at it dazedly, "Up you get. Inside."
He continues to stare at her hand, and she slowly reaches for his elbow, tugging him out of the car and slowly guiding him up the walk to her front door. She's digging for her keys when he places his hand on the doorknob and opens it for them, waiting unsteadily for her to lead the way inside. She does, closing and locking the door firmly behind them.
"How do you do that?"
"Things just like opening to me, Detective," the words run together and she notices him swaying on his feet.
"Think you can make it upstairs?" She glances at him doubtfully, "The only other option is the couch, but you're so long I don't think it would be comfortable."
"You have no idea, Detective," he slurs with an exhausted attempt at a smirk.
"Oh, ew, that is not what I meant and you know it," she shoves him toward the stairs, laughing. "Clearly if you have enough energy for innuendos, you have enough energy to make it upstairs. Go."
"Truly, darling, I've had a catnap, I should be well enough for another day or two now—"
"Up. Stairs. Now." Chloe unconsciously invokes her Mom Voice™ and he turns without further argument, tackling the stairs at a snail's pace, occasionally leaning forward to balance himself with a hand on a higher step as he goes.
"You realize this isn't going to work, yes?" he mutters as he weaves his way down the hallway. She tugs him to a halt outside Maze's old room—her guestroom now.
"Why not?" Chloe asks, puzzled. "I'm a light sleeper, I'll hear you moving around."
"Several reasons," his gaze is serious. "I'm very fast, I'm silent when I want to be, and I don't need to stumble through your apartment to leave—my wings can take me out of here without even leaving the room."
"Hmm," she muses. If that's accurate, he's right. "Do you really think your father is making you fly around at night saving people like some kind of feathery superhero?"
"I don't bloody know, Detective, but Amenadiel doesn't currently have wings, and we're both fairly certain none of our siblings are down here doing so, so if it is an angel, that only leaves me as a possibility." His jaw clenches, his eyes glinting angrily. "I refuse to be my father's puppet!"
"Okay," Chloe gives in, exhaustedly opening the door and ushering him inside the room. "I'll sleep in here with you, and we'll use handcuffs."
"I, er, broke the set I took last week, Detective—earthly metal can't hold me, I'm afraid." It's a measure of exactly how tired he is now that he doesn't even make a mention of her talking about sleeping with him and using handcuffs in the same breath.
"Well, we'll cuff you to the headboard then, and it'll at least slow you down a little and wake me up so I can wake you." Chloe snaps, "this is happening, Lucifer, you need sleep."
He sinks bonelessly down to sit on the mattress when she gives him a light shove, too drained to argue anymore. He toes his shoes off and slumps onto his side, nestling into the pillow as he holds out his right hand for cuffing.
She pulls them from her belt and slaps one on him, wrapping the other around the post of the headboard. He nuzzles the pillow, not even bothering to try to get under the covers.
"Mmmh," he groans, "smells like Ms. Lopez."
Chloe huffs in surprise. I guess we can add enhanced sense of smell to the superpower list? "She stayed over last week, we had kind of an impromptu girls' night and I didn't want her to take a ride share home so late."
"Yer a good fren', Det'c," he slurs, finally losing his war with consciousness. He's deeply asleep before she can respond, and she gazes down at her partner. He hadn't even removed his jacket.
She briefly debates changing into her pajamas, but she decides to sleep in her clothes as well. This whole situation will be much easier to explain to Marcus if she adheres to that little detail, and points out that Lucifer is her friend and needed her help. She doesn't have the energy or the brainpower right now to try to process Lucifer's frenzied revelation about Marcus earlier. She removes her belt, grabs a couple of blankets from the linen closet and drapes one over Lucifer, then tucks herself under the other. Lucifer is huddled on the far edge of his side, and she does the same as she turns out the light. This will be fine.
She wakes in the morning with the knowledge that something is different. The angle of light hitting her face is wrong—did she oversleep? Her brain slowly comes to life as she wriggles into the warmth next to her, reluctant to open her eyes and find that she is running late. The warm presence makes a contented humming noise, and she realizes she's not alone… in fact, she's snuggled up with someone… she breathes in the scent of whiskey and faded cologne… Lucifer.
The relaxation of the body she's curled around tells her that he's still deeply asleep, so she cracks her eyes open to take stock of the situation. He's laying on his back, his cuffed wrist tucked under the edge of his pillow and his right side nearly hanging off the edge of the bed. Chloe's nose is nestled into the unbelievably soft cotton of his shirt, and his jacket has rucked up under his armpit. Her arm is slung across his waist and her left leg drapes comfortably across his. His face is turned toward her and his long nose is buried in her hair, hot breaths puffing evenly through it. His left arm has wound up underneath her, and his relaxed hand rests lightly against the skin at the small of her back where her shirt has ridden up in the night.
"The guy is totes head over heels for you, Chloe." Ella's words from last week suddenly fill her mind. The worry she had felt for his condition last night floods into her waking memory, along with their tense confrontation in the interrogation room. She doesn't move away yet, but moves her hand from his waist so that her palm rests above his heart, feeling the steady thump beneath her hand as she wonders how she's going to explain to Marcus that Lucifer spent the night at her place…
"Pierce isn't Pierce. He's Cain from the Bible. And he's immortal… He's been around for eons… all he cares about is ridding himself of that stupid curse that my Father put on him... because he killed his brother—"
Was that just exhausted, jealous rambling, or is that the truth? She wonders. She considers Pierce asking Lucifer if the angel the witness claimed to have seen was one of his brothers… and his sense of humor really doesn't strike that way. He knows something. If he knows that Lucifer is the devil… he could be an immortal…
Well… she considers dryly, whether it was one of Lucifer's brothers or not, there was definitely no sleep-flying for him last night. She gives herself a generous moment to enjoy the warmth, the solidity of him before she starts to slowly pull away, hoping not to wake him as she moves. She's back on her side of the bed before she breathes a sigh of relief, and Lucifer tries to roll in her direction, as though seeking her warmth, but the cuffs bring him up short and he startles awake with a grunt. He holds his cuffed wrist up in front of his face with a half-smile before he glances around and sees her lying beside him, watching him.
He freezes into that otherworldly stillness she's only ever noticed in him, muscles locked, not breathing, eyes fixed on hers.
"Detective? What—?" His voice is dry and cracked, raspy with exhaustion and sleep.
"You didn't go vigilante last night, Lucifer, it's fine." She gives him a small smile, and tension slowly drains from him. "I'll unlock the cuffs, and you can go back to sleep for a while, okay?"
"Hmm," his eyes are already closed, and she thinks he's asleep before she really finishes the sentence. She examines him carefully—the dark bags under his eyes are definitely lighter, and the stress lines less evident, but still in place. She slides off the bed and neatly folds the blanket she'd used before finding her cuff key and circling the bed to unfetter him. She removes the one from the headboard first, gently lowering his hand to the mattress before unlocking the one on his wrist, and she sucks in a breath when she sees that the metal has cut into the skin of his arm overnight. She can see some slight bruising, and her fingers gently trace the ruddy line around his wrist. His long fingers suddenly catch hers and her gaze snaps up to meet his bleary brown eyes, still half-lidded with sleep and only inches from her own.
"I'm sorry, it looks like I might have gotten it a little too tight—"
"S'alright Detective," he murmurs thickly, "I'll heal the moment I go home to change. Thank you."
"For what?" she whispers, caught in his magnetic field, drawn in by nothing more than him.
"For… caring," he answers slowly, after a long moment where she wonders if he's fallen asleep again. "For… taking care of me."
"Of course I care about you, Lucifer," she reminds him quietly, but his loose grip on her hand slides away and he doesn't reply further aside from a snuffling snore. She startles when her phone vibrates in her pocket and she backs away, tracing a light touch along his cheek as she moves to the hallway to avoid disturbing him.
"Decker."
"Detective Decker, I've started your paperwork for the warrant for Masquerade Inc," Officer Murphy's chipper voice fills her ear. "Just wanted to let you know it should be approved for you by lunch."
"Thanks Murphy, I really appreciate it."
"You guys must have been here late, huh?" she continues, her tone friendly. "I know Scoretti was here at the desk 'til nine."
"Yeah, it was a really long day," Chloe admits with a sigh.
"Is that partner of yours okay? We haven't seen him around for a while."
"He's been… busy." What had he been doing to keep himself awake for a week? Aside from watching Bones? "Hopefully he'll be back soon."
"I hope so, we've missed him around here."
"Yeah… me too. Thanks Murphy, you'll send the warrant to my e-mail when it comes through?"
"You got it Decker. Go get 'em."
With nothing to do but wait for the warrant to come through, Chloe tackles some paperwork, and once she's finished with that decides to go through Masquerade's website to prepare for her visit. She's clicking through the gallery and comes across an unexpectedly familiar face.
Jeremy Bell? Kevin Winstead's ex-girlfriend's husband? She reaches for her phone, redialing the precinct.
"Murphy, I'm gonna need to change up that warrant."
Lucifer has vanished when she goes upstairs to tell him about the development in the case, the bedclothes straightened and smoothed as though hotel housekeeping had just passed through. Chloe dials him, but he doesn't pick up, and now she worries.
Her warrant comes through and she arrives at the Bell home with backup to find Jeremy huddled against the bay window bench, with his arms wrapped around a decorative pillow and a confession ready on his lips. When she scans the room she finds a tumbler of scotch and small pile of ashes, and knows exactly what happened. She finds herself torn between wanting to go to Lux and demand answers and wanting to go home to think about everything she'd learned last night. Home wins—but only just.
She spends the day researching Marcus this time, and finds a few key bits of information. Marcus Pierce looks exactly the same in every photo she can find of him. She sees no evidence of the passage of time whatsoever between the photos on her phone, and the photos from Chicago PD 5 years ago. Before that, she's unable to find any photos of him at all. It's like when she'd tried to research Lucifer's origins, before she'd believed him—he'd just materialized in 2011, larger than life.
Of course, she knows now that Lucifer had been ruling in Hell—a very good reason not to leave a paper trail on Earth. But a human—a normal human—should have left more of a visual trail to follow… unless he was having to constantly swap identities to avoid people finding out he's actually immortal.
She thinks back to when Pierce first arrived, his initial interest in Lucifer and his antagonism toward her in particular. The way he'd shot down every attempt she'd made to approach him, to break the ice, to connect… then it was like a switch had been flipped. He'd invited himself along to the Axara concert, and she'd gone along with it, thinking that Lucifer had lost interest, but she'd seen the look on her partner's face when she'd told him that she was taking Pierce with the second ticket. He'd hidden it quickly but his hurt was real, and it wasn't all from the stab wound that he'd received protecting her.
So… if he's immortal—which, she admits to herself, is looking more and more possible—how do I go about proving it? Do I need to prove it? Can I just ask him? 'Hey Marcus, have you ever gone by another name? Or maybe a few thousand other names?
She remembers sitting in the car on the Sinnerman stakeout before Lucifer had called to inform her that he'd broken free of his trap, Marcus's confession that the Sinnerman had killed his brother. That hadn't seemed like a lie, there had been real emotion emotion though? Marcus's eyes were often unreadable, clear as glass and often hard as diamond.
If Marcus is really Cain, he only had one brother… even I know the story of Cain and Abel… and what happened to Abel. Okay, so… how do I go about asking my sort-of boyfriend-slash-boss if he's actually the world's first murderer… and what do I do about it if he is?
Dammit, she needs to talk to Lucifer before she makes any moves. If Pierce is Cain, then he's definitely dangerous. But is he dangerous like Lucifer is dangerous? Only to people that deserve punishment? Or is he dangerous, period?
She feels a surge of gratitude that she hadn't allowed him around Trixie yet, and checks the clock—Trixie's at a birthday party and is due to be dropped off in an hour or so.
She abandons thoughts of Pierce—she can't make any decisions without talking to Lucifer to see what else he knows about him—and turns to the devil himself. Ella's observations rattle around in her head as she considers her partner from every angle she can. It's an incomplete picture, but… I'm right. Linda's right. He's not evil. Immature. Narcissistic. Annoying. Unbelievably frustrating. Loyal. Protective. Brave, and funny… and kind.
It's that last one that has always surprised her so much about Lucifer… from the beginning he's been largely clueless about emotions, but he's typically a good judge of character –Well, I suppose he would have to be, wouldn't he?—and to those he judges worthy, he's almost unfailingly kind. She hadn't expected that of someone so egocentric, but it's a huge part of who he is, right up there with desire and punishment. Sometimes he's just completely oblivious, and other times his attempts backfire in the worst ways, but his heart is nearly always in the right place.
Kindness is not something that comes easily to Marcus—he's always a little bit too rough, a little too hard or brusque to pull it off. She's seen him go through the motions a time or two, but it never seems to come from his heart. Lucifer's heart, on the other hand, seems to overflow with it, as though it's been building up inside him for eons and only now has it been allowed to flow free, taking the form of a million tiny observances, like remembering the coffee orders and snack preferences of all his particular friends. Anonymously sponsoring a student from Haiti when his scholarship dried up. Putting so many of her fellow officers on the free drinks list at Lux that she's sure he had to raise drink prices just to accommodate them all.
Her heart leaps as a resounding knock on her door breaks into her thoughts. Think of the devil, and he shall appear? She giggles and jumps to her feet. She races to the door and throws it open—
And finds her stocky, big-armed, flinty-eyed superior officer standing in her doorway in a t-shirt, leather jacket and jeans instead of her devilish partner in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit.
When the excitement she'd felt at the knock when she thought it was Lucifer drains away in the face of reality, she realizes what she needs to do. Marcus' hands are tucked behind his back, and she calls on her acting skills to summon a shy smile for him.
"Hi," she breathes in a reasonable facsimile of shyness. He smiles back at her, but it doesn't warm his eyes. "What do you have?" she asks him playfully, "I should warn you that I hate surprises… I always have to ferret out the truth when someone's hiding something from me. Come on, let me see."
His eyes narrow as he pulls a six-pack of beer from behind his back and presents it to her with a flourish. "To celebrate solving a murder!"
"Oooh, thank you." She gasps dramatically, managing to fake a realistic laugh as she takes them from him and sets them on the kitchen bar.
"And this," he presents a small, store-bought chocolate cake in his other hand. "I'm more of a key lime pie guy myself, but every proper bribe requires self-sacrifice."
"Oh, this is Trixie's favorite… but she's on her way home from a birthday party right now."
"Oh, birthday party. Maybe she's already had enough cake for the evening," his tone is joking, but his eyes are intently focused on her, as though watching for something… or waiting to pounce.
"I'm sure she's had more than enough cake to keep her on a sugar high for at least a couple of days," Chloe smiles, then sobers. "Listen, Marcus, this is really sweet, and… I wanted to tell you that… I really like spending time with you, but… I still haven't talked to Trixie about us. And… and I think I know what I want now, with us, but I need to make sure she's on board before anything else happens."
A hard light flares in his pale eyes and his lips twist briefly before he nods, stepping back a little and giving her space. "Of course, Chloe, we've got all the time in the world. Whatever you need."
"Fast or slow. Whatever it takes." Maze's words from earlier parade in her mind and her suspicions solidify. Chloe steels herself and steps forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his round cheek, pulling back before he can try to turn it into a real one. "Trixie will be home in a few minutes. If she's not too worn out, maybe I can talk to her tonight."
"No, of course," he bends to scoop up his motorcycle helmet and strides to the door. "I'll see you at work tomorrow, Chloe. You did great work on this case. I know you weren't keen on working with Lucifer this time, but maybe we won't need to call him in for the next one."
She hums noncommittally, and offers the six-pack back to him, "Why don't you take these with you?"
"Nah, keep 'em here," he grins, but his eyes remain cold, untouched. "We can celebrate later, okay?"
She nods, and he turns to head down the stairs. She waits until she hears his bike flare to life and fade with distance before she disposes of the cake.
She starts preparing dinner, and is just sliding the shepherd's pie into the oven when Trixie bursts through the door, most definitely on the highest of sugar highs. Chloe forces herself to set aside her celestial distractions and immerses herself in Trixie's recitation of the party and the rest of her day. They're just clearing the plates from the table when a frantic knocking at her door sends her heart leaping again, as Trixie races to answer it.
"Lucifer!" Trixie sounds thrilled to see him, and of course she would be—he hasn't been around as much the past couple of months as Chloe and Marcus had started to get closer.
"Er," the sound of a confused Lucifer drifts to her from the doorway, and she knows Trixie has him in her clutches. She'd been a little concerned that she might be wary of having him around her daughter now that she believes him, but she's pleased to find that's not the case. The unease she'd felt since Marcus appeared on her doorstep starts to melt away now that Lucifer's here. She smirks as she hears him shuffling uncomfortably in the doorway. "Yes, child, hello. Is your mother all right?"
"Sure, we just had dinner, c'mon in!" They appear a moment later, Trixie dragging a still-bedraggled, objecting Lucifer by the hand. He's holding what appears to be a figurine wrapped in his pocket square from yesterday gingerly in his hand, and he hasn't even changed his suit.
"Hey," she says gently and he merely looks at her, eyes wild with a mix of emotions she can't even begin to name. "What's going on? You look… rough."
"I…" he trails off on an exhale, glancing down at the knickknack in his hand. A lock of his untamed curls flops down into his eyes as he continues, "Detective, I don't even know where to begin."
"Okay," she says slowly, taking in his fidgeting movements, the tension in his shoulders. "Have you eaten?"
"Have I… eaten?" he tilts his head, puzzled at her line of questioning.
"Yeah," she smiles. "Like, today. Or in the past week, even. I'm not kidding, Lucifer, you look like you've been run over by a truck as you were coming down from a bender."
"That… is not an entirely inaccurate description for my current emotional state, I'm afraid."
"Well, let's start with this," Chloe grabs a plate and piles it with food while Trixie pushes him to a stool at the bar. He gingerly sets the figurine next to him, and she notices it looks familiar. "Is that… the missing figurine from the Winstead crime scene?"
"Apparently it isn't, only a replica," he glowers at the cherub as he slowly picks up his fork and starts to eat. At the first bite, he closes his eyes in bliss and chews slowly. Chloe feels a little swell of warmth in her chest at his enjoyment, even though it's probably only because he hasn't bothered to feed himself for… for who knows how long. "Detective, this is delectable. Thank you."
"You're welcome," she acknowledges, before continuing her observation of the cherub on her bartop. "Why did you bring this with you? It doesn't seem… your style."
"I assure you it is not my style, but… you require proof if I'm to convince you of anything, Detective… I don't know if this will suffice, but I'm afraid it's all I have. My… what I have to tell you is not a pleasant tale, and I can only hope to convince you of its legitimacy."
"I know you don't lie, Lucifer," she reminds him carefully, settling into a stool opposite the table from him, while Trixie climbs up into the one next to him.
"But neither do you always truly believe what I say, Detective," he points out, gesturing with his laden fork. "Urchin, I'm not entirely sure you should be present for this conversation, but I will of course defer to your mother's judgement in the matter."
"Is it about work stuff?" Trixie asks eagerly, and Lucifer considers for a moment.
"A bit, but mostly not," he decides. "I'm afraid it may affect you somewhat, but I don't know how much your mother will want me to share."
"Do you have any homework, Trix?" Chloe raises an interrogational eyebrow.
"Maybe…" her daughter admits, "a little?"
The second eyebrow joins the first, and Trixie sighs in defeat, sliding off her stool and looking up at Lucifer. "Don't leave without saying goodbye, okay? I missed you!"
"I shall do my best, Spawn," he shoots a furtive look at Chloe before focusing on the plate before him. Trixie nods and retreats to her bedroom to finish her schoolwork, and Chloe transfers the lifted eyebrow to her partner in an invitation to begin his tale.
"So?" she prompts when he continues to eat with single-minded purpose.
"You're aware of my recent concerns regarding sleeping, and my father's manipulation," he begins slowly. "As it happens, while my wings have returned, I have not been forced by my father into doing angelic deeds in my sleep."
"That's… good, right?" she asks tentatively. The set of his shoulders indicates there's more to the story.
"You'll recall what I said to you yesterday, about… about Pierce?" His voice is gentler now, and his body tenses a little as he brings it up as though fearful she's going to pick up where she left off last night.
"Mmhm," Chloe responds, watching him carefully.
"I… had something of a revelatory conversation with Mazikeen this evening, which is why I burst in on you in such a hurry. I… was worried for you."
"For me?" Chloe's eyebrows shoot up as Pierce's cold eyes flash through her memory. "Why?"
"Because," he swallows, pushes his plate away, "I don't know the entire plan, Detective, but Mazikeen has been gaslighting me with this 'Angel of San Bernardino' farce, knowing that my rabid distaste of being manipulated by my father would distract me from… from whatever Pierce—Cain—has been planning for you."
"Lucifer, tell me what you know," a ball of ice settles in Chloe's stomach. "Then, when you're done with that, you can tell me what you think you know."
"All right," he closes his eyes and visibly steels himself before beginning, "I know you and Pierce have been dating… I assume since the Axara concert, but I suppose it could have been before that. I know he's been looking for a way to… to end his endless existence for thousands of years now, and I know that I've tried to help him find the loophole to allow him to do so, but I backed out of the deal when he… when you nearly got hurt during one of our plans. I think—I suspect that he… Oh, bollocks," he murmurs to himself, and his eyes suddenly seem darker, as though the light of hope has left them. "This is going to require further explanation than I thought, and… I had hoped to couch this in terms that you might actually believe, Detective, but… we're going to have venture into what you believe are my metaphors in order to move forward. I'll try to simplify… As I've explained previously, Detective, you make me vulnerable. I can be injured, or die when I'm in your proximity. My belief is that Cain is under the impression that your regard is what weakens me so, and that by winning your regard for himself, he may share my situation and be able to finally end his life."
Chloe's first reaction, which she manages to suppress, is to scoff and deny everything he's just said. She rests her chin in her hand and regards him appraisingly for a long moment as she considers his allegations. She remembers Lucifer coming to her after her attempt to drunkenly seduce him, and his admission that she makes him vulnerable… He meant it literally. That explains why he's been shot, burned, and stabbed when he's been with me, but when he got shot with Linda he wasn't hurt at all. "So… you think Pierce is trying to get me to, what, fall in love with him? So he can die?"
"I'm aware that you don't believe it Detective, but it's the truth," his gaze meets hers steadily. "When I returned to Lux the day of Kevin Winstead's murder, this little trinket was on my bedroom floor. An exact match for the Gabriel figurine that the witness was missing—which we now know the murderer took and destroyed after he'd accidentally touched it. That was the beginning of Mazikeen's plan to start destabilizing me, by planting the idea that I had been that angel."
"Why would Maze want to destabilize you?"
"I told you, she wants me to take her home," he sighs, frustrated. "I won't risk your safety by going back to Hell again, and she's angry. I don't know their entire plan, but I'm nearly positive it entails me fleeing Earth with my tail between my legs and taking her with me."
"Do… do you have a tail?" she blurts, sidetracked as her mind whirls. Maze wants to go home. Home is Hell. Lucifer doesn't want to go back to Hell.
"Detective, focus please!" He huffs, offended. "Of course I don't have a bloody tail. But Mazikeen has even gone so far as to save a family from a burning home in San Bernardino while wearing wings to further my paranoia at being manipulated by Dad, she told me as much before I came here to make sure you were safe. She's been working with Pierce against me all this time."
A small thump and a gasp comes from the direction of Trixie's sliding door, and Lucifer sighs, casting his eyes to the ceiling. "Spawn, I haven't divulged your eavesdropping habit to your mother previously because I feel that if you're clever enough to find things out without detection, then you deserve to learn what you desire… but if you're going to give yourself away so easily I am reconsidering my assessment of your cleverness."
"Trixie!" Chloe calls sharply, and a moment later the door slides open, revealing her chagrined 9-year-old daughter. "What do you have to say for yourself? How long have you been listening?"
"I… heard Maze's name," the girl admits.
"So, from the beginning, then," Chloe glances at Lucifer, who nods sagely. "You knew she was listening?"
"She does that nearly every time you send her to her room so we can speak, Detective, unless she gets bored or distracted… Your spawn is really quite intelligent. I'm quite willing to bet that she knows I've been telling the truth this entire time."
Chloe's wide eyes find her daughter, who grins mischievously. "Do you really not know that Lucifer's the devil, and Maze is a demon, Mommy?"
"And what makes you so sure they are?" she asks warily.
"Lucifer doesn't lie," Trixie points out ruthlessly, and Lucifer gestures smugly in a 'There, you see?' flourish, "and Maze wore her other face for Halloween last year—it was so cool!"
"Did she really?" Lucifer asked interestedly, at the same Chloe gasps a horrified,
"What other face?" she throws a questioning gaze at Lucifer, who's looking at her strangely.
"Mazikeen's demon face… well, it looks nothing like my devil face, but… I suppose it's a similar concept. While this," he gestures pompously to his visage as Chloe rolls her eyes, "is my original face and my devil face appeared after I'd been cast into Hell, Maze's demon face is her real appearance. The face she wears here on Earth is a… bit of a cloak."
"Maze doesn't have glowy eyes like you though, Lucifer," Trixie pipes up, and he smiles down at the girl.
"No child, she does not. That's reserved solely for the devil himself."
A flash of red reflected in stainless steel, her own strained voice, "Who are you? What are you? Did you do this?"
"I've been trying to tell you, I'm the Devil."
"That's… that's not possible."
"I assure you, Detective, it is."
"How does Trixie know your eyes glow, Lucifer?"
"He used them to scare off my bully!" Trixie provides helpfully.
Chloe closes her eyes and counts to ten. From day one. My baby knew from day ONE and made the devil with the glowy eyes one of her best friends because he's funny and defended her from a bully.
"Detective?" Lucifer's voice is hesitant, and Trixie seems to realize that her mother is upset. She steps forward and grabs Lucifer's hand. "Do you… do you want me to leave?"
"No." The denial is vehement, immediate, and takes them both completely by surprise. They stare at each other, wide-eyed for a moment, with Trixie's gaze bouncing between the two of them. "Trixie, you are going to take a very long bubble bath, and you're going to watch a movie, very loudly, with your tablet propped up on the towel rack while Lucifer and I have a conversation without little ears eavesdropping. And we," she glares at her daughter, "are having a long conversation about exactly why eavesdropping is wrong, very soon."
"Oookay," her daughter groans, and Lucifer finally succeeds in shaking his hand free of hers. "Is… is Maze okay? It… sounded like she's been doing some bad things."
"Mazikeen is having a very hard time adjusting to human emotions, offspring," Lucifer supplies gently when Chloe's mouth only hangs open, unsure what to say. "When demons are uncomfortable, they lash out at whatever's closest… and unfortunately, that puts all of us a bit at ground zero."
"Will she get better?"
"I'm afraid that's up to her, Urchin," he murmurs softly, and Trixie nods sadly. "I certainly hope so."
"Me, too."
"Trixie, bath." Chloe finally manages words, and shuttles her daughter up the stairs and waits until she can hear Tangled starting before turning back to Lucifer and taking a fortifying breath. "I do believe you."
"You do?" his eyebrows lift and a small smile appears on his lips. "You believe me that Maze and Pierce are plotting together?"
"Well, yeah, I do, but that's not what I meant."
"You believe me that Pierce is immortal?" his voice sounds skeptical now, his eyebrows crinkling in thought, as though trying to decipher her.
"Okay, yes, I'm… I'm getting there too," she approaches him carefully, sitting close beside him and reaches to grab his left hand, holding it between hers. His expression says that he's worried for her sanity. She takes a deep breath and gazes into his concerned brown eyes as she continues, "I… I believe that you are Lucifer, the… the fallen angel. The devil."
For a moment the light of hope flares in his eyes again before his gaze drops to her hands cupping his, takes in her body leaning toward him. His expression clouds and he pulls away stiffly, growling, "Really, Detective, now is not the time to pretend… to humor me! The situation in which we find ourselves has potential to be deadly, and I won't have you—"
"Lucifer! I saw you!" she hisses furiously, and he lapses into stunned silence. "Okay? I saw you show your wings to Charlotte last week." His face pales by several shades, and his hand suddenly feels cool in hers. She gazes into his eyes, watching as the warm brown is slowly swallowed by the deep black of his pupils and his breathing speeds until he's nearly panting. "Lucifer? Hey. Lucifer. Are you okay?"
"You—" he breathes soundlessly. "You—?"
After a few more moments of non-response from her partner, Chloe pulls out her phone with a sigh and dials.
"Linda?" she says when the therapist picks up, "Hey, sorry I'm calling so—no, I'm fine, but… I may have broken Lucifer?"
Chapter 4
"We were having a discussion about our current situation, and I… I told him that I know, that I saw him show Charlotte his wings, and…" Chloe pulls in a deep breath, wedging the phone securely between her ear and her shoulder. "And now he just seems catatonic? I wouldn't have called, but he's been this way for several minutes now, and I don't know what to do." She's still holding onto his unresponsive hand tightly, and his eyes seem to be locked on it.
"Okay… what situation?"
"We're… dealing with something with Maze and Pierce plotting together, and I was trying to… to kind of prod him into showing me, but he was getting more and more frustrated because he thought I was just humoring him, so I told him that I know, that I saw his wings. He just froze, Linda."
"What is he doing now?"
"He's sitting on one of my barstools. He tried to speak, or at least he seemed like he was going to say something, but didn't. And since then he's been staring at our hands."
"At your hands?"
"Yeah, his are really cold, Linda."
"Hmm. Pupils dilated?"
"Like saucers."
"Okay Chloe… I… I think he's probably utterly terrified." Linda confides quietly. "Proving his identity to you has been a huge concern of his since I've known him, and having you confront him with the fact that you do believe him now might send him into a bit of a tailspin. You can't lie to him right now, Chloe, nothing less than absolutely pure honesty will do. It's going to be incredibly difficult to convince him that you aren't terrified or disgusted – oh wait—are you?"
"Of course not!" Chloe grips his hand more tightly in hers, her other hand trying to massage some warmth back into it.
"Okay. I didn't think you seemed that way when we spoke before, but…" she clears her throat. "In his mind, he is utterly unlovable. If you can be truthful, you need to tell him that you're not afraid, that you're not going to run, that you want him there with you. Try to focus on what you do want. You can't say anything you don't mean, though Chloe—he'll never believe anything like that if he senses any kind of falsehood from you now."
Chloe nods, feeling her resolve rising in her chest at the challenge before her. "Okay. Be honest, and reassure. Not a problem. Thanks Linda, can I call back if I need you?"
"Of course, and text me when he comes out of it, once he settles a little."
"Got it. Thanks Linda!"
"Good luck!"
Chloe puts the phone away and slides off her stool, stepping closer to Lucifer carefully.
"Hey," she nudges him with her elbow against his, and his gaze slowly slips from their hands to where her side presses close against his. "Come on, let's go sit on the couch, okay? I'm a little afraid you might fall off the stool. Can you stand?" She places a hand under his elbow and lifts tentatively, finding that even in his current state he's willing to let himself be directed by her. He drifts to his feet and she guides him slowly over to the couch, settling him into a seat. She feels a little tendril of warmth at the level of trust afforded to her by the man—being—before her, then feels a subsequent thrill of fear that she may not be able to prove herself worthy of it. She settles down beside him, her side pressed flush to his and still holding tightly to his left hand. And she starts to speak. "Okay. So, Linda says you're probably pretty scared right now, that you've been kind of worried about how I would handle learning… well. I guess not really learning, because it's not like you haven't been telling me who you are the entire time I've known you, yeah? Repeatedly. So… I guess, you might be afraid that I'm going to… to just what, abandon you? Now that I believe you?" She huffs a small, nervous laugh. "Not a chance, partner. I'll admit I was a little freaked out at first, but… I've had some time to think about it now. I have, like, a billion questions for you, when we get some time. The first things you need to know right now are that I'm not afraid of you, and I'm certainly not going anywhere."
She watches him closely for any reaction, and she's rewarded by a quick snap of his eyes up from their joined hands to meet hers intently. She sees the fear in them, the disbelief of her statement as he looks for the lie.
"You're," his face finally animates a little, and this time the word comes out as a rasp, but she'll take the improvement. "you're not afraid of me?"
"How could I be?" she shakes her head, fighting to hold back tears at the sheer incredulity in his roughened voice. "You're my partner, Lucifer, I know who you are. Wings or no wings."
"The wings," he murmurs, his gaze falling, shoulders slumping. "Of course, it's the bloody wings."
"What do you mean?"
"I've told you, Detective," he sighs heavily, "The wings are… divine. They inspire awe, reverence, often even obsession in humanity. They are not an accurate reflection of who I am."
"Lucifer," she shakes her head, trying to find the words she needs to get her through this conversation before Trixie emerges from her bath. "The wings didn't inspire any of that in me. I mean, they're gorgeous and all, but… you're still you, and I'm still me. And we get along pretty well together, don't we?"
"Do we?" he asks doubtfully. "Will we? Now that you believe?"
"I went to Lux that night to talk to you, I… I didn't like how… I didn't like the distance that we'd put between us, and I wanted to talk it out, but… I saw you. I saw you help her." She squeezes his hand, slipping her fingers in between his and he looks at their hands in blatant shock. "You're a good person, Lucifer. I could see and hear how anxious you were about revealing yourself, and you did it anyway… to help someone who was drowning."
"Well, apparently now we know where the Urchin gets her eavesdropping talents from, hm?" He lifts an eyebrow at her, and she has the grace to blush.
"I really didn't—"
"It's… it's all right, Detective," he cuts her off gently. "I suppose, as celestial introductions go, it could have been far worse. I will simply have to keep reminding you that wings do not a devil make. Don't let them deceive you darling, I am no angel… it's why I didn't want to show them to you in the first place. If I'd been able to show you my face… well. Your reaction would have been more appropriate."
"Appropriate how?"
"You would have run," he intones with absolute certainty. "You would have run without stopping to think, and you certainly wouldn't be sitting next to me now, holding my hand and telling me I'm good."
"I don't understand," she tilts her head, puzzled. "Do… you want me to run?"
"It would probably be the safest thing for you, Detective," he replies quietly, "I am poison. I tried running before, to save you from me, but… but I wasn't strong enough to stay away. Perhaps if you did, or," he perks up a little, "perhaps if you order me away, then I could—"
"Don't. Even. Think about it." Her tone is hard and he startles at the vehemence behind it, glancing back up to meet her gaze. "I talked with Ella a little bit about the last time you ran—and we'll definitely be talking more about it once we're past this. You're my partner, Lucifer, and my best friend. I want you here." She watches the expressions cycling through puzzlement, disbelief, hope, and finally resignation. From upstairs, she can hear Flynn starting to freak out about Rapunzel's glowing, healing hair. "Trixie's movie is half over, should we come back to this discussion, and handle the Pierce-Maze issue now?"
"Yes, all right," he acquiesces, "prioritization. We were discussing Mazikeen's plotting to distract me from Pierce's intentions with you."
She casts her glance around, trying to remember the point in the conversation before Trixie, and it lands on the angel figurine on her bar.
"Okay. So… the Gabriel figure wound up in your bedroom as part of Maze's plan to spin you out. How would Maze know about the figure?" Chloe asks reasonably.
"Simple—Pierce knew about it, and must have told her," he holds his hands out, palms up. "You and I have been distant lately, we've barely spoken outside of work, and you haven't called me in for as many cases as usual. Tell me, did Pierce encourage you to call me in for this case?"
"He… he did, yeah." Chloe's mind is spinning. "Why would Pierce need to send you into a meltdown?"
"Well that seems obvious to me—he mistakenly thinks you harbor some sort of affection for me, so the best way to win it for himself is to remove me from the picture." Lucifer's mask is firmly in place now, trying to hide the hurt in his eyes, and his tone is gentle but clinical, very similar to what he'd used when he was showing Charlotte his wings. "He tried kidnapping me in the beginning, but I made it back to you much sooner than he anticipated. With this plan, if I didn't remove myself with distraction, you would remove me because I would be acting erratically and you simply wouldn't tolerate it. You'd kick me off the case, or perhaps even dissolve our partnership." He sighs dejectedly, "Which is essentially what happened."
"Pierce was—" Chloe realizes she's nearly shouting and dials her volume down, "Pierce was behind your kidnapping? How long have you known that?"
"Ah, let's see… he told me months ago, just after he shot his patsy… when I stabbed him to prove he was Cain."
"You…what!? Lucifer! What if you'd been wrong!"
"I wasn't!" he protests, then for full disclosure, continues, "Though I did have a fleeting moment of doubt when it took him longer to resurrect than I thought it would. But he eventually popped back up like the noxious weed he is, bled all over my bar and we had a lovely conversation about immortality, my kidnapping, and him being the Sinnerman, then—"
"Okay, whoa, stop," Chloe's jaw sags as Lucifer turns to face her curiously. She reluctantly releases his hand and gets up to start pacing, unable to stay still with her current level of agitation. "Pierce is the Sinnerman. Pierce? He shot the Sinnerman, when he was attacking you!"
"The man he shot was his underling. Cain basically raised him from childhood to be his right-hand man. He claimed he went rogue, but… I don't know how true that was." Lucifer shakes his head distastefully, and Chloe reels. "And for the record, I was in no danger from Helen Killer. The man was literally begging me to kill him when you two showed up and Cain pumped him full of lead."
Trixie. Was he eyeing Trixie to be his next right-hand? No. No, Lucifer said he wants to die. I'm his reason for being here, not my Monkey.
"Lucifer, why didn't you tell me?" Chloe turns to him, suddenly furious. "Why would you let me… get involved with him if you knew what he was?"
"Let you?" Lucifer's brow furrows. "Detective, your decisions are entirely your own—one of the stipulations of free will. As to why I didn't tell you… you… made it very clear that you were not willing to hear any accusations from me on any level without proof, especially regarding the Sinnerman. And I have none, only what he admitted to me in private."
"How could you do that to me?" she snaps, and he surges to his own feet, looming tall, and yet she feels no warning tingle, no flash of anxiety the way she had when Pierce had shown less than half this level of agitation. I'm not afraid of him. Even when he's angry.
"You seemed… you said you were happy, Detective," he gesticulates passionately, his voice plenty loud enough to be heard over the roaring of the blood furiously rushing in her ears. "I gave you back your choice, and… and you chose him. Who am I to argue?"
"Who are you?" she parrots incredulously, turning to keep facing has as he starts to pace as well now. "Lucifer, you're my… my friend, my partner! You were just going to let me… bring him into my life? He's dangerous, he's a murderer! A criminal! I almost introduced him to Trixie!" He flinches, a flash of anguish crossing his face, and it brings her up short. "What?"
"All of those things could be said of me as well," He straightens his shoulders, pulls his mask firmly back in place with the air of someone facing his executioner. "I am dangerous, some would consider me a criminal. And I too have killed. You've inspired me to try to become a better version of myself. Who's to say you couldn't have done the same for Cain?"
Chloe gapes at him for a moment, but even with his grim admission, she still doesn't feel the chill with him that she felt with Pierce.
"You're nothing like him, Lucifer," the words slip out before she's even aware of them, but she doesn't even try to deny the truth of them. She sinks back down onto the couch and reaches out to take his unresisting hand. "You're not." She tugs him closer, urges him to sit down again and after a moment, he complies. "We can discuss this later, but I know you don't just go around killing people that get in your way. We need to focus on this situation for now, so stop trying to distract me!" her tone becomes scolding, and she stops and takes a deep breath, holding for a few seconds before repeating the process. "So Pierce is the first murderer, immortal, and a criminal kingpin with a penchant for manipulation, long-term planning, and an agenda to die. What… how do we even begin to address this? What will he do when I break it off with him?"
"Well," he's silent for a moment as he considers, "If you break it off with him, he'll probably assume I am the cause."
"How does that make sense?" She narrows her eyes, trying to follow that logic. "And it's not an 'if', Lucifer, it's a 'when'."
"Remember, he thinks my vulnerability stems from this imagined regard that he thinks you hold for me," Lucifer points out mildly. His face lights as an idea occurs to him. "If he thinks—however mistakenly—that I'm standing in the way of his gaining your love, he'd most definitely take further action to remove me from the equation, Detective. Perhaps that would give us an opportunity to—"
"No way," she cuts off that thought before he can go too far with it. "You're still vulnerable around me, which means he can hurt you, or even kill you. That's not a viable plan, it's too reckless."
"Bloody vulnerability," Lucifer mutters under his breath, and Chloe huffs a laugh. "Though, I suppose if he's working with Maze, he'll have access to her Hell-forged blades, which could kill me even when you're not nearby, so there's that."
"You think Maze would go along with that?" Chloe's lip curls in distaste at the idea that their friend could be so far off the rails.
"Thus far she's betrayed with my own brother—who was trying to get me killed, considered betraying me with my mother before she lost her nerve, and now with Cain," he sighs, resigned. "I think it's safe to say she'll go as far as she feels she needs to go to get what she thinks she wants."
"All right… okay, we'll… we'll come back to that, then. What about this—he thinks me loving him will, what, break his curse, right?" Lucifer nods cautiously. "The easy solution would be to just tell him that I… that I do. We're already sort-of together. He came by this evening and I didn't give him any reason to think I was onto who he really is. If I tell him that I—if I tell him that, and his curse doesn't break, he'll just move on, right?"
"Detective, I am not one to question your excellent acting skills, but… are you certain that you can handle that level of subterfuge?" He looks askance at her. "You would have to be incredibly convincing, and… that kind of deceit isn't something I would have thought you would participate in willingly, especially for someone close to you."
"Lucifer," she pauses, catching wind of something dark wriggling below the obvious question he's asking. "If we're right—and I think we are, based on what I've observed and what you've told me—Marcus purposely wormed his way into my life to make me fall in love with him… so he can die. He's been manipulating me into… into caring for him, all so I could have my heart shattered when he dies? You're the expert on being manipulated by people you care about Lucifer, you tell me if I can manage it?"
His eyes are intently focused on her, and she wonders what he's thinking about. Her wondering is resolved when he finally replies, "You know, after all the times you gave me blue balls back when we first met… yes, I think you'll be just fine."
She can't help it, she bursts into giggles and his pleased little grin only sets her off again. She leans her head against his shoulder once she reins in her laughter, and he stiffens under her.
"What's wrong?" she pulls back, looking up into his face.
"Nothing," he nearly squeaks, followed by clearing his throat. He shifts away from her and slips his hand into his jacket, withdrawing his flask and taking a pull from it. "You do realize that you'll need to actually say the words, though, Detective? You won't be able to avoid them the way you've been doing."
"I can say 'I love you', Lucifer," she meets his eyes as she does, and he glances away quickly, taking another pull from his flask.
"Yes, er, I think you'll do quite well, Detective, I'm sure of it, but… I'm worried about you being alone with him. If he sees through the ruse… I don't know how he'd react, and he is quite brutally strong."
"Hm." Chloe flushes as she considers the bruises she'd noticed after… and it seemed like he'd been trying to be gentle… at least a little. "Is he stronger than you?"
He scoffs at the idea. "Of course not, he's still human. He couldn't even beat Amenadiel in a fight, and he's been diminished to nearly that."
Amenadiel diminished? Right, we'll circle back to that.
"Okay so… what do you say to being my backup? I told him today that I wasn't comfortable moving forward with him until I talked to Trix about, um, him. What if I invite him here tomorrow to talk, and… you tuck yourself away in her room?"
"Couldn't I hide in your room, Detective?" Lucifer glances distastefully into Trixie's room, which admittedly is a bit on the messy side. His face twists suddenly, "Unless you plan to entertain him there, of course."
"Lucifer…" she shakes her head, exasperated. "If you don't want to be in Trixie's room, the guest room is fine, I just wanted to make sure you'd be able to hear, and intervene if necessary…"
"Detective, I can hear your neighbor's dinner discussion from here," he reveals blandly. "Listening to you and that man-ham from a flight of stairs away is less than child's play, I assure you. And I am very fast."
"How… how good are your senses?" she asks hesitantly. It seems kind of a rude question to ask, but it could be relevant. "I mean, you could smell Ella on my guest sheets… If your hearing is that good, how are you not deafened at Lux?"
"It's rather difficult to describe without comparisons," he admits candidly, "all I know is, they're far stronger than human senses. My memory is near-perfect when I'm not actively filtering things out, and of course permanent. Identifying a scent of someone I'm familiar with is quite simple. Especially with as often as Miss Lopez winds up in my personal space…" Chloe stifles a smile at his show of grumbling about Ella's hugs. "I can see clearly for quite a distance, and darkness and shadows hide no secrets from me. But for now, I suppose what matters is that I can hear that your offspring's movie has ended, and she's draining the water from the bathtub, so we'll have company in just a very few minutes."
"Okay, can we put this on hold until I get her into bed? We can flesh out the plan after—" she trails off as Lucifer valiantly tries (and fails) to stifle an enormous yawn. She notices again the bags under his eyes, and his state of dishevelment. "Maybe we can put it off for a day or so until you can get some more rest. Now that you don't have to worry about… sleep-flying. Wouldn't want to risk you accidentally nodding off during my conversation with Pierce." It should feel strange, how quickly he's gone from 'Marcus' in her mind back to 'Pierce'. But it doesn't.
"No, no, I'm fine," he protests, barely succeeding in smothering another yawn hard on the heels of the first. "I'll wait here while you settle the Urchin, and we can continue our planning session."
Trixie traipses down the stairs in her unicorn pajamas then, skin pink from the heat of her bath and toweling her hair dry.
"Lucifer, you stayed! Are you going have a sleepover with us?"
"Er," he begins, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, but Chloe cuts him off.
"Lucifer is really tired, Monkey. Is it okay with you if he uses Maze's old room tonight?" He tilts his head at her in a silent inquiry as Trixie cheers, and she murmurs, "Please?"
"Very well, Detective," he sighs, "but this poor suit is now going on day 3, and I'm going to need a bloody shower."
"Are you, uh, wearing anything underneath?" Chloe asks him quietly after sending Trixie to go choose her story for the evening. "That you can sleep in, aside from your suit, I mean."
"Detective, are you asking if I'm wearing pants?" he laughs delightedly, and she narrows her eyes suspiciously at him. His grin lingers despite her glare, and he continues cheerfully, "As rarely as it happens, I am. Though I truly am capable of driving home, Detective, my reflexes—"
"Sleep deprivation is used as torture for people for a reason, Lucifer," she points out, and he nods sagely.
"Oh, I know." She blinks as she realizes that he not only knows, but that it's entirely possible he has a list somewhere of people suffering that exact torture in Hell, right now. She gets up and moves toward Trixie's room.
"And… I don't want to seem needy but, with all this new information, I just feel safer when you're nearby right now, okay?" She looks back at him as she reaches the sliding door and he's staring at her, dumbfounded. "What?"
"I… you feel safer with me?" he breathes. "Are you certain you haven't suffered a head injury at some point in your life?"
"Of course I feel safe with you, Lucifer." His gaze softens, and his breath catches a little at her reassurance. "Go take your shower, and if you're not too tired after, we can plan some more, if not… we'll work on it tomorrow."
He mutters something under his breath about a 'bloody miracle' as she steps into Trixie's room for their nightly ritual.