"What's this?!"
She blurted out the words before she could stop herself. Thankfully, she was able to slam a hand over her mouth before she let anything else slip… or rather, before she dissolved into peals of laughter. The man in front of her looked so unlike her partner that she could hardly believe her eyes. For a moment, she stood there speechless, while he impatiently rocked back and forth on his heels, waiting—for once—for her to let him into the apartment. Considering what he was wearing, she might have expected him to appear somewhat sheepish… but then again, how often was he embarrassed about anything?
The Devil he was four years ago, though… well, he would be aghast at his future self.
His future self, who was currently sporting a novelty Christmas waistcoat.
The rich black silk that hugged his body was littered with a swirling pattern of presents, trees, and baubles, each design highlighted by golden embroidery, and accentuated by the matching buttons securing it over one of Lucifer's usual white dress shirts. The outfit was topped off by a green and red striped bowtie, and together it made for an ensemble that Chloe could have never imagined her partner wearing in a million years. And given who he was, that was probably literally true.
He gave an exaggerated sigh. "This, Detective, is a result of your offspring's ridiculous insistence that the dress code tonight be themed for the season. I did point out to her that 'Christmas Jumper Day' was, in fact, earlier in the month, but apparently this is yet another tradition of yours?"
"Sweater," she corrected automatically. "And yes, it is."
Or rather, it was. Dressing up in ugly Christmas sweaters was something they used to do together years ago, back when she was still with Dan. But not long after they split, Trixie announced she was 'too old' to do it anymore, and so that was the end of that particular tradition. Chloe wasn't sure her daughter had a novelty sweater that would even fit her anymore.
"Wait," she said, her mind finally snapping out of the festive-Lucifer induced haze she'd fallen into. "Is that what she was shopping with Maze for earlier?"
He hummed in the affirmative, before lifting a variety of multicoloured gift bags into the air. "I got one for everybody!" he exclaimed with glee, a wicked gleam in his eye. "After you said it was customary to give presents people would despise, I couldn't think of anything more fitting."
She closed her eyes and inwardly groaned. "Lucifer, that's not quite what I—"
But he was no longer listening, bustling past her into what was, as of yesterday, the dining area. He deposited the many gift bags on the coffee table before checking inside each one, as if the contents might have somehow magically vanished on his way over here. She couldn't help but recall his reaction on Christmas sweater day inside the precinct; the absolute horror on his face as Ella chased him across the bullpen floor, a musical reindeer sweater she insisted would suit him perfectly clutched tightly in her hand. If he still had his wings, she had no doubt he'd have flown out of there in an instant, the threat of being forced to wear such a thing far more distressing than the idea of a human discovering the celestial.
"Nevertheless," he continued on, "I saw no reason to put myself through the same torture, so hopefully this should meet your spawn's requirements." In an imitation of one of their earlier encounters—only far less naked this time—he slowly pivoted on the spot, and she took the time to admire how the cut of the waistcoat highlighted his trim waist, despite the absurdity of the item itself. "Thankfully, the good folks over at Art Lewin owed me a favour; they were able to knock this monstrosity together in less than a few hours."
It was a name she recognised from a case a few years back, the kind of store Dan would never have even dared enter in search of a suit. "Let me get this straight," she said, her jaw practically on the floor. "You're saying that not only did you buy a novelty waistcoat, you commissioned a designer novelty waistcoat?"
"Of course I did," he replied plainly, as though it were obvious, a statement of fact no different to the sky being blue and the grass being green. A deep frown developed on his face before he walked back over to her, his fingers rising to brush at her temples.
"Are you quite alright, Detective?" he said with concern. "You didn't hit your head getting the turkey out of the oven, did you?"
Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she gently brushed his hands away. The warmth of his touch lingered on her skin, and she secretly savoured it, as she did every time he touched her these days. But there wasn't time for that tonight, not with everyone arriving soon. She couldn't afford for the two of them to get lost in any more 'moments'.
Not yet, anyway.
"Lucifer, I'm fine," she said, feigning annoyance. He didn't fall for it though, practically bouncing after her as she headed back into the kitchen.
"Of course you are, now that I'm here," he said, without so much as a hint of humility. "And you needn't worry, Detective, I didn't forget you!"
Puzzled by his words, her eyebrows knitted together as she looked up at him, taking in the childlike glee on his face. "Why would you forget—?" Her eyes fell to the brightly coloured packages behind him, and suddenly the reason for his excitement became all too clear. "Oh no."
"Oh yes," he replied with clear delight. "You didn't think I'd leave out my favourite detective, did you?" He strode over to the table and picked up a blue and white spotted bag, before holding it out to her. "And there's still plenty of time for you to change, so off you pop."
Vehemently, she shook her head. "Uh-uh, no way. I don't know what you've got in there, but I've already gotten ready once this evening, and—"
"And very lovely you look too," he interrupted, his eyes tracing the outline of her body in the modest but fitting red dress she'd purchased for the evening. A dress that was definitely only in Lucifer's favourite colour by coincidence. "Very lovely indeed. But surely that's an outfit you could wear tomorrow, darling?"
The term of endearment made her breath hitch, and then she felt the full force of deep brown puppy dog eyes that almost had her saying yes on the spot. In fact, the word was halfway out of her mouth when she heard the sound of her daughter clambering down the stairs, and she sighed in relief at the interruption.
But not for long.
"Come on, Mom, you have to wear it! Look, I've got mine on." Trixie spun on her heel, so fast that Chloe couldn't even register the design at first, but when the spinning stopped she saw that it was Santa and his sleigh circling a planet, creating a ring reminiscent of Saturn. She couldn't help but smile at the memory of an eight year old girl, announcing determinedly that she would become president of Mars one day. Now that her monkey was older, her ambitions were literally a little more down to earth, but the fascination with space remained.
"Yeah, Decker," Maze said, appearing behind Trixie as if from nowhere. "Don't you want to join in the fun?"
'Fun' was not something Maze looked like she was having at that precise moment in time, her stance screaming discomfort as she tugged at the sweater she wore. It was definitely a departure from her usual attire; bright green wool clinging to her body instead of pitch black leather, adorned with Christmas trees rather than straps and chains. The only Maze-like thing about it was the gingerbread man at the centre, the scowl on its face mirroring that of its owner, perfectly matched by the phrase 'Bite Me'.
Now Chloe understood why Trixie insisted she be the one to choose their outfits for the evening. The jumpers weren't the only way the pair matched though. The two of them had obviously used the time they should have spent helping her prepare the dinner braiding each other's hair instead, into a style that left her daughter looking far older than she was. Which, she suspected, was the point.
Between her daughter's pleas and Maze's 'You'd better get in on this otherwise you'll regret it' death stare, Chloe was left with very little option other than to at least try it on. She took the bag from Lucifer with a reluctant sigh, causing him to grin triumphantly. "Never fear, Detective!" he said, "You're going to love it."
Which, of course, immediately assured her that she was not going to love it.
Thinking that perhaps it would be easier to veto if she weren't in the room, Chloe retreated into her bedroom. She opened the bag cautiously at first, until it occurred to her that she was treating the thing like it might explode any second, and that it would be better just to get it over and done with. Reaching inside, she took hold of the soft wool between her fingers, and yanked it out of the bag. For a brief moment, she was relieved to see a blue background covered in white snowflakes staring back at her; not the most stylish of choices, and certainly not as personal to her as Trixie's, but certainly something she could put up with wearing for an evening.
And then she turned it over.
"Lucifer!" she yelled, only to jump out of her skin when the door to her bedroom immediately opened, just enough as the Devil in question could pop his head through.
"Yes, Detective?" Lucifer said, grinning all over his face. He must have snuck upstairs straight after her. For such a tall guy, he could be quite quiet when he wanted to be, and she cursed herself for having never followed through on that threat to tie a bell around his neck.
"I'm not wearing this," she said as she whirled around to face him. "And before you say anything, no, I'm not agreeing to any kind of deal that means I have to."
Lucifer's expression didn't change though, and it didn't take long for her to realise why. There wasn't going to be any deal; he didn't need one. Not when he had reinforcements.
"But, Mom..." said the voice of her daughter, followed by the appearance of her head around the door, eerily mimicking the smug looking man above her. "You said you liked our tree."
"Oh, baby," Chloe said, guilt flooding her at the note of sadness in her monkey's voice. "I do. Of course I do."
"Then why won't you wear it?" Trixie replied, and it was the glimmer of tears in her daughter's eyes that proved to be her downfall.
Turning to face the mirror again, she held the sweater up against herself, smoothing out the material as she did so. It's just one night, she told herself. Keep Ella away from her camera phone and you'll be fine.
"Okay," she said, trying not to let her exasperation show too much, but still managing to shoot Lucifer a look that let him know he was by no means off the hook. "I'll put it on."
"Excellent," Lucifer said at the same time as Trixie exuberantly cried out, "Awesome!" All traces of her distress vanished in an instance, but it was the sound of a high five after the door closed again that confirmed to Chloe she'd been played. Her head in her hands, she looked back again at the sweater tossed haphazardly on the bed.
Glaring at the space Lucifer's head had been just a moment ago, she unzipped her dress, and resigned herself to spending the evening in a sweater that asked anyone who looked at it to "Check out my baubles."
…
Lucifer stood next to the Detective in the kitchen, his concentration wavering between the strawberries he was slicing and the scene at the dining table. The evening was going well so far; their guests arrived on time, and the wine he'd selected to go with the main course had gone down swimmingly. While he and the Detective busied themselves preparing dessert, their guests conversed easily, the sound of laughter frequent and plentiful. There was an air of good feeling all around, and only one problem.
He didn't understand it.
"Did I do it wrong?" he asked quietly, unable to tear his eyes away from the table. "Everybody seems so happy. How can they stand to wear something so hideous and yet be so bloody cheerful about it?"
A hand covered his, stilling his movements. He glanced over at the Detective, who nodded down towards the knife he was holding; a knife that was currently a hair's breadth from slicing into his fingers. She took the knife from him and placed it back down onto the chopping board, before sliding it out of the way.
Blue eyes regarded him fondly. "It's Christmas, Lucifer. Of course people are happy."
"But the jumpers!" he said, perhaps more loudly than he'd realised, judging by the bemused glances from a few faces across the room. Lowering his voice, he continued, "You didn't like yours. Are you the only person here with any shred of sanity left?"
The Detective smiled, which only served to increase his confusion. She did dislike her jumper, didn't she? Or had he buggered that up, too?
"Look at them, Lucifer," she said softly, directing his attention back towards their guests. "Do you honestly not see it?"
They stood together silently, watching as Miss Lopez waved her hands in the air, obviously regaling her audience with some tale or other. Trixie especially seemed enthralled, every so often glancing at her father as if to make sure he was paying attention. Amenadiel and Linda were engaged in quiet conversation, with the latter occasionally leaning over to whisper something in the angel's ear. And Maze… well, Maze just seemed bored. Which was nothing out of the ordinary.
But none of it enlightened him in the slightest to whatever the Detective was going on about.
After he shook his head, the Detective moved closer, her arm slipping through his as the heat of her body began to bleed through his suit. "You chose all these, right?" she asked, gesturing, he assumed, at his gifts. The recipients of which had insisted on immediately changing into as soon as he handed them over.
"With the exception of your offspring and Mazikeen, yes," he confirmed, wondering where she was going with this. He was hardly going to leave the task to anyone else, not after the spawn had stressed to him the importance of this particular tradition.
She nodded. "And why'd you pick what you did?" He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off before he could, raising a finger in the air as she added, "And don't say just because they're hideous. There's far worse Christmas sweaters out there. I should know; I think Dan owns most of them."
That much was true. Out of everyone attending tonight, Daniel had been the only one to turn up already wearing what the urchin claimed to be the correct attire. If anything, his new clothing was actually an improvement.
"Well," he started, suddenly feeling inexplicably awkward. Studiously avoiding the Detective's piercing gaze, he focused on the table, where Linda's bright red sweater caught his eye first. "Naturally, after so many sessions with yours truly, the Doctor has learned to appreciate a good pun." His lip curled in amusement at the snowman announcing, "I'm sexy and I snow it."
"Admittedly, that particular design would have also suited Miss Lopez's excellent sense of humour, but I believe that strange round robot is a favourite of hers." Apparently 'cute' machines making indecipherable 'beep-bop' noises was the one thing missing from her beloved Star Trek. Or so he'd gathered from the hour long lecture he received on the subject one evening while keeping her company in the lab.
"My brother, of course," he said, nodding at Amenadiel, "does seem to favour a cardigan for some godly reason." He suppressed a shudder at the sight of the candy cane covered woolen monstrosity before him, the only redeeming part of which was the red bow tie he'd added to the outfit from his own collection.
The Detective giggled, and his heart skipped a beat at the sound. "Doesn't Amenadiel normally wear hoodies?" she asked, and, after a moment's pause, she added, "And don't you mean 'ungodly'?"
Lucifer frowned; if there was a difference between the two frankly hideous items of clothing, he was unaware of it. He shrugged in answer, choosing instead to focus on her second question. "Believe me, Detective, if there were ever a being in the universe most likely to wear a cardigan, it would be my Father. It wouldn't surprise me if he created the bloody things in the first place."
"And on the seventh day he made a cardigan," the Detective muttered, causing him to gape down at her. She caught his eye with a mischievous grin, and they both burst into laughter.
"You do know that's a fallacy?" he said, after they'd finally caught their breath. "Time didn't even exist back then, and my Father certainly didn't create light."
"I'm well aware," she said in reply, using her position to elbow him in the ribs a little. "Good job on that, by the way."
Something warm bubbled up inside him. He'd always been proud of his work—a little too proud, some might say—but hearing her praise it, praise him, it gave him joy on a whole other level. The trouble was, he didn't know how to tell her that. Or if he even should. A simple 'thank you' was the obvious option, but he couldn't seem to form the words. Emotions battled inside him; he wanted to hug her, to kiss her, to fall at her feet.
But he did none of these things, and in the end, she saved him from himself.
"What about Dan?" she said, her forehead wrinkling slightly as she looked over at her ex. Out of everyone, he'd been the most mind-bogglingly pleased with his gift, going so far as to take a selfie and immediately posting it to wobble. "I mean, I get why you chose it, and it does have 'ho ho ho' written on it, I guess, but it's not exactly Christmassy."
His jaw dropped open in shock. She had to be joking, didn't she? Yes, the machine gun part could potentially be considered not in the spirit, but the movie itself... "Not Christmassy, Detective? I'll have you know that not only is Die Hard a Christmas movie, but it is the Christmas movie. And I have the Youtube video to prove it!"
Not wanting to break her hold on him, he reached across her with his free hand, attempting to grab his phone from beyond where she was standing. She caught his wrist though, stopping him in his tracks. "Okay, okay," she said with a laugh, "I believe you."
He withdrew his hand, but not without gently brushing his fingertips across hers first. A touch he could tell himself was accidental, one that wouldn't break his own rules for the evening. Rules he had in no way already shattered by letting her stand so close to him in the first place.
When she looked up at him again, her eyes were sparkling. "Do you understand now? Lucifer… they like their presents because you put thought into them, whether you meant to or not. Things from their favourite movies… a style they prefer… knowing you, you probably even picked colours that would suit them."
"Well, I thought the aim was to gift something they would dislike, not something they would hate," he replied with a sniff. Frankly, he still found the entire thing baffling. "I thought the jumper itself would be enough."
She jostled him slightly. "You didn't get it wrong, okay? I mean… maybe this"—she pulled at the hem of her sweater—"is a little more your preference than mine, but I still appreciate it."
"As do I," he murmured, unable to resist the temptation to let his eyes roam over her 'baubles'. The smack she landed on his arm soon snapped him out of it, but when he directed his gaze upwards again, the look in her eyes was more amused than annoyed.
"Truth be told," he said, standing a little straighter and adjusting his cuffs. "I did attempt to find something lemon bar related first, but for some strange reason there appears to be a lack of festive citrus-themed jumpers available on short notice.
"Shocking," the Detective muttered under her breath, and he grinned in response, pleased that they were on the same wavelength. She laughed a little, smiling up at him. "See? You did try and tailor it to me. And I don't dislike it, I—"
He snapped his fingers in the air, a wave of shame rolling over him for not thinking of it sooner. "Tailor! You're right, Detective, that's exactly what I should have done. It might have been a bit of a squeeze fitting both a waistcoat and a jumper in, but I'm sure—"
"Lucifer." Her hand touched his arm again, but this time, it stayed there. "I don't need any of that. I like my sweater because you gave it to me. It doesn't matter what's on it, not really."
The warmth from her hand seemed to spread through his body, until his heart was consumed by it. He recognised it as the same feeling from when he'd given her the necklace, that strange mixture of relief, self-consciousness, and pleasure at having gotten something right. That was important, especially when it came to her.
Especially when he'd gotten so many things wrong in the past.
He swallowed heavily, and it was only through sheer force of will that he was able to pull himself away from her, away from the urge to pull her into his arms and never let go. "We'd best get back to the party," he said, reaching out blindly to grab the nearest plate and holding it awkwardly in front of him. "Can't let everyone go hungry now, can we?"
After a moment, she nodded, her arm slipping from his as the corner of her mouth curled upward. The few remaining strawberries were quickly distributed amongst the slices of tart, and together they gathered up as many as they could before heading back to the table, where they were met with beaming smiles.
Even Lucifer was left feeling stuffed to the brim by the time the last spoon was licked clean. He leaned back in his chair with an exaggerated groan, holding his stomach dramatically. His antics caused the offspring to laugh—which he would never admit was his intention, he wasn't a circus clown, after all—while the Detective just raised her eyes to the ceiling, which was definitely his intention. He didn't miss the way she raised a hand to her mouth though, surreptitiously hiding a smile.
Ella and Linda both rose to their feet, and as they both headed over to where a pile of bags and boxes lay near the entrance, it became clear to him that the time for presents had arrived. Which, in turn, meant it was time for him to make himself scarce. Everything had gone well so far; there was no need for him to potentially ruin this part of the evening with his presence, not when he had no role to play in it. The urchin, he noted, was already collecting the dirty plates and carrying them to the kitchen, an activity that provided him with the perfect opportunity.
On her next return to the table, he quickly stood, whisking the plate she'd just picked up out of her hands, and leaning over her to grab another. "I'll handle this, child," he said, not bothering to put his usual persuasive cadence behind his words; he already knew he would receive very little argument. "Stay with your mother. Enjoy the party."
"But Mom said—" the spawn started, her eyes darting over to where the Detective was currently on her hands and knees under the Christmas tree. A slow smile spread across her offspring's face. "You won't tell?" she said, wide eyes staring up into his own, a silent plea for his agreement.
As always though, he would only go so far, especially when it came to the Detective. "As long as she doesn't ask," he said, receiving an eager nod in return before the child ran off into her bedroom. They both knew she wouldn't ask. All that mattered was getting the job done, not who did it. It was a lesson he had learned down at the precinct, listening to the whinings of overexcited rookies, bemoaning that they weren't the ones to make the arrest. As the Detective was quick to point out, it was that getting justice was the important part, not who did the punishing.
Not that it stopped him from rubbing their solve rate in Daniel's face every so often.
Scooping up the last of the dishes, he made his way over to the kitchen, where he busied himself for as long as he could, throwing out excuses like confetti as he was called back to the table again and again. Surreptitiously, he enjoyed the sound of paper being torn and the excited squeals that followed, mainly from Miss Lopez and the urchin. He suspected there were a couple in there from Daniel, too. The chatter and laughter between them all ebbed and flowed until it became like music to his ears, and he found it was a symphony he simply couldn't get enough of.
Eventually though, his task was complete, leaving the kitchen sparkling and him unable to find any more reason for being there. With little other option, he resigned himself to going back, but not before selecting one of the few whiskeys he'd managed to keep hidden from Maze inside the cleaning cupboard. Swiping a glass from the upper cabinet, he poured himself a glass before finally returning to his seat.
A seat which was apparently no longer his.
"Playing musical chairs, are we?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the small pile of presents laid out in front of his chair. "Where should I sit?"
His question was met with a multitude of puzzled stares. "That's still your chair, Lucifer," the Detective said after a moment, and he frowned, as equally confused as they all seemed to be.
"But—" He waved at the gifts, indicating their clear mistake. Only one face changed in understanding at the gesture.
"Lucifer…" Linda said with a kind, yet strangely sympathetic smile, "they're your gifts. For you. From all of us."
He blinked, his eyes moving unbidden from looking at the Doctor to staring at the multicoloured wrapping paper that adorned the boxes marking out his place on the table. He blinked again, his mouth falling open, but words failed him. How could any of this be for him? Yes, he'd given them gifts, but there was no deal made there, no tit for tat.
As he sank down into the chair with a thump, he vaguely wondered if he looked as dumbfounded as he felt. It didn't make sense. Unless, perhaps, the spawn had given the game away?
Yes, that had to be it. This was nothing more than ensuring he was compensated equally, as humans were wont to do this time of year. It wasn't the oddity he thought it to be at all, just the fulfillment of an unspoken contract he had never meant to form. "This was unnecessary," he said, his voice quieter than he intended. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "The jumpers were an experiment, of sorts. A way to fulfil a tradition the spawn insisted upon. Believe me when I say I did not mean to imply I required repayment."
"Dude, what are you even talking about?" Miss Lopez exclaimed, waving her hands animatedly. "Just get on with it and start unwrapping, will ya? I've been waiting months for this!"
Months.
She said months.
This was no last minute decision, no rush job after the late discovery that she would be the recipient of a gift. No, this was planned. Miss Lopez had included him in this silly human ritual of exchanging presents, and he couldn't for the life of him understand why.
As if in a dream, he began to slowly remove the sellotape that covered every edge of the gift, leaving no loose paper to tear even if he'd wanted to. But he didn't. Rather, he found himself handling the object as though it were something precious, fragile and sacred. He could feel Miss Lopez's stare upon him as he carefully peeled back the edges, her foot tapping excitedly against the floor, urging him to hurry up and go faster. He half expected her to grab the package from him and start opening it herself.
But the attack came from elsewhere. "You're too sloooooow," the Detective's offspring complained. He was just about to come up with a retort when she suddenly shoved her chair back, before swiftly plucking the parcel from his hands and dashing over to the Christmas tree, where she promptly began tearing at the paper.
"Trixie!" the Detective scolded, but Lucifer couldn't bring himself to admonish her, not when he was so captivated by the sight of his present emerging from underneath. A flash of gold caught his eye, bewildering him for a second, and then a slow smile spread over his face as realisation dawned.
The spawn stared at the statuette in her hands, looking distinctly unimpressed. "What's it supposed to be?"
"Nunchucks, child," he answered with a grin. "Specifically, the golden nunchuck award for best fight sequence, awarded to Wesley Cabot in 1998."
"Awesome," he heard Daniel whisper under his breath.
The Detective, however, didn't seem to agree. "Did you take that from evidence?" she asked, a hint of seriousness underlying her curiosity. His smile turned fonder. Always a stickler for the rules, his detective.
"Yup!" Miss Lopez said, excitement lighting up her eyes. "Cleared it a while back. Kimo didn't want it, so…"
Her interest having evaporated, the spawn tossed the award in his direction, and he plucked it out of the air with ease, before placing it down carefully on the table in front of him. He ran his fingertip softly across the nameplate, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Thank you, Miss Lopez," he said quietly, surprised to find his voice a little choked. He paused, composing himself before continuing. "It shall take pride of place in the penthouse library."
The grin Miss Lopez shot him in return was blinding. No sooner had he opened his mouth to thank her further though, than a much more haphazardly wrapped present was shoved in his face. "My turn!" the urchin announced, staring at him in such a way that implied he better get on with opening his gift this time, or face the consequences.
And so it began.
Once he began opening the rest of presents, there was no stopping him. The spawn's gift turned out to be a selection of novelty pocket squares; one for every holiday throughout the year. Daniel's offering was a 12 month subscription to a pudding of the month club, quickly followed by Linda's gift of a giant sized tub of his favourite colour candies from the bowl she kept in her office. Maze may have only given him a card, but stashed inside was a hastily scribbled note, promising not to betray him in any way before the end of the holidays.
Amenadiel was just in the middle of presenting him with one of his favourite whiskies when he first felt it. To begin with, it was nothing more than an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. But as time went on, and more parcels were slid across the table to replace those he'd already dealt with, it only grew worse, tightening with every breath he took. He couldn't shake the feeling that, somehow, something was wrong. Very wrong.
His hand froze over the bow he'd just been about to untie, his thoughts a whirlwind. This shouldn't be happening, not to him. He was the Devil. He didn't get gifts, not unless they were part of some deal, or to beg his favour. None of this was meant for him, it couldn't be. It wasn't right.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Detective fiddling with a small box in her hand. Another gift. Another misguided attempt to—to what? To try and convince herself that he belonged here? To help her pretend that he was someone else, someone who could be a part of all of this.
It was too much. He couldn't do this. He shouldn't be here. He had to—
"Excuse me," he choked out, shoving his chair backwards almost violently. "I—"
The worried faces staring back at him stole all of his excuses. Not that it mattered. Whatever he was about to say, it would be a lie, which meant he couldn't say anything at all. He didn't need a smoke, or a drink, or to take a phone call. What he needed to do was to run. To get as far away from here as he could, before he told them the truth. Because the reality was they were mad to treat him this way, fools to think he was worthy of their care. He would hurt them, in the long run, just like he did everybody.
That's what you did when you were poison.
"Lucifer? Is everything oka—"
He shook his head, unable to bring himself to look the Detective in the eye. She shouldn't have to deal with any of this. Shouldn't have to deal with him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, two miniscule words that could never convey the sorrow he felt in that moment.
And with that, he was gone.
…
"Mom?" Trixie said, her small face pinched with concern. "Did Lucifer not like his presents?"
Chloe forced herself to turn away from the patio doors Lucifer had just taken off through. It was rare indeed that she was grateful he didn't have his wings, but this was certainly one of those times. Otherwise, she knew full well he'd have vanished the instant the door closed behind him. At least this way, she still had a chance of catching up to him.
Mustering a smile, she reached out to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind her daughter's ear. "Oh, no, baby, that's not it. Lucifer… he's just not used to people giving him presents, that's all."
Trixie glanced towards the back of the apartment, chewing thoughtfully on her lip. "You should give him yours," she said with a decisive nod. "It'll make him feel better."
Not for the first time, Chloe wondered how she'd managed to raise a child who seemed to have twice as much wisdom as she did. Sliding the box she was holding into her pocket, she pressed a quick kiss to her monkey's forehead, before following in Lucifer's footsteps.
To her relief, she opened the door to find him standing in the shadows, hiding away from the warmth and happiness inside. He was pressed so back far into the corner that if it weren't for the fairy lights she'd hung up to help decorate the garden, she wouldn't have been able to see him at all. "Hey," she said, walking over to him and resting her hand upon his arm, drawing him back into the light. "A little too much in there, huh?"
The flask he was holding mirrored the glow from the window as he lowered it from his lips, the wine he'd drunk apparently not enough to get him through the evening. He shook his head. "I'm fine, darl—Detective."
And yet he didn't meet her eyes when he said it.
"I thought we said no more half-truths, Lucifer." She tried not to let disappointment colour her words, but judging by the apologetic look on his face as he turned to her, she failed.
"I'm sorry," he said for the second time, "for still being here. I tried to leave, but… I couldn't." He took another swig from his flash, his fingers tightly curled around the edges. "I ruined everything."
Her heart broke for him. "No," she insisted. "No, you didn't. And I don't want you to leave. Nobody does. Lucifer, I—"
"I don't deserve this," he said, cutting her off, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground. "I don't deserve…" With a sigh, he closed his eyes, leaving the 'you' unspoken.
She stepped closer, taking the flask from his hand and tucking it into her own pocket. A ghost of a smile flitted across his face at her actions, before disappearing again as quickly as it arrived. Taking hold of his other arm, she tucked a finger under his chin, forcing him to look at her. "You do," she said, sliding her hands down to take his, squeezing to emphasise her point. She nodded in the direction of the doors. "You deserve everything that's waiting for you in there." She hesitated, debating with herself whether she was doing the right thing, whether it was the right time for him to hear this. And then she took the leap. "You deserve… people who love you."
His short, sharp intake of breath seemed to echo in the evening air. The shock slowly faded from his eyes, replaced by something more akin to awe. "Detective—"
"You should join us tomorrow." He opened his mouth to respond, but she shook her head firmly. "I don't want any arguments."
"But—" He paused, swallowing heavily, confusion written all over his face. "You said, family... "
Letting go of his hands, she placed hers on either side of his face. "You are family. You've been family for a long time now." Moving her hands to his neck, she gently pulled him down, until his forehead rested against hers. "I'm so sorry I forgot that."
It seemed she had finally shocked her partner into silence. She moved backwards, giving him the opportunity for space if he wanted it, but he quickly stepped forward with her, resting his hands on her hips as he held her in place. She felt his fingers come to rest over his present, his thumb caressing the sharp edge through the material of her jeans. "Oh!" she said, pulling away slightly, enough as she could reach into her pocket. "I got you something." When she went to retrieve it though, Lucifer stopped her, his hand wrapped gently around her wrist, fingers resting over her racing pulse.
"Give it to me tomorrow," he said softly, as he slid his hand downward to take hers again.
"You'll come?" she whispered, hope fluttering in her chest.
He smiled at her, small and unbelieving. "How could I not?"
For a moment, they stood there, breathing in unison as the world ground to a halt around them.
For a moment, they were the only two people in existence, bathed in light as the stars overhead joined the fairy lights that surrounded them.
And then, the moment was broken.
"COOL! Lucifer's coming for Christmas!"
Trixie's ecstatic face beamed up at them both from the doorway. Dan's voice drifted in from the living room. "Glad you changed your mind, buddy!"
Chloe smiled to herself; at one time Dan would have been outraged at the idea. These days, it seemed he considered Lucifer family just as much as she did.
A giggle brought her attention back to her daughter, who promptly pointed at something above their heads, before grinning wildly and running back into the apartment.
Both of them looked up at the same time, and Chloe felt warmth rush to her cheeks as she realised that they'd managed to maneuver themselves under the mistletoe Trixie had insisted on hanging there earlier in the week.
A smirk appeared on Lucifer's face, but there was fondness behind it. "Ah… I believe this is one Christmas tradition I do know, Detective."
Inspired, she gave him a cheeky smile. "Oh? I guess I won't need to demonstrate then."
For a second, he looked taken aback. He recovered quickly though, lifting one of her hands to his shoulder, while he clasped the other one tightly in the air. Slowly, he began to move them around in a gentle waltz, dancing to music only he could hear.
"Lucifer?" she said, looking at him questioningly.
"Hmm?" He spun her away from him, then guided her back again, wrapping his arms around her from behind as they continued to sway together. Ducking his head down to hers, he spoke quietly into her ear. "Dancing under the mistletoe is the tradition is it not, Detective?"
She turned in his arms and laughed softly. "You know damn well it isn't."
He dipped her then, stealing her breath in a gasp, supporting her weight as if she were nothing but air. "Oh?" he said, the picture of innocence.
Suddenly, in her mind she was back in Lux, gold swirling all around, his face hovering above hers as she waited for him to kiss her. Except he didn't, and she knew now that he wouldn't.
She wasn't going to wait for him any longer.
Raising her head up towards him, she captured his lips. His body tensed; despite everything leading them up to this point, he clearly hadn't expected her to actually kiss him. He pulled away as he righted them both, but remained close enough as she could still feel his breath on her face.
"Chloe…" he whispered, in that voice he always used to speak her name, the one that made her shiver inside. "Are you su—"
She cut him off with another kiss, and he melted into her. They stayed like that who knows how long, gently kissing in the twilight. When they finally parted, both of them breathless, their hands remained entwined, each unwilling to let the other go completely.
An excited squeal broke the silence, causing Chloe to bury her face in Lucifer's chest, not quite ready to break the bubble they'd created for themselves. He chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her, a gesture that was so automatic, yet so unlike him that she found herself smiling besottedly into his shirt.
"It appears we have company, Detective." She turned her head to the window, fully expecting to see her daughter spying on them. Instead, she found Ella standing there, clapping her hands together in delight. Chloe grinned, and her friend returned it, mouthing the word finally! at her before spinning around and rushing back to join the others.
Chloe hugged Lucifer a little tighter, still unable to wipe the smile from her face as she felt him brush his lips over her hair. "Shall we go inside, darling?" he murmured. She shook her head before tilting her face up towards him.
"Just a few more minutes?" she said, already knowing what his answer would be.
"Just a few more minutes," he agreed, and lowered his lips to hers once more.