If he even entertained the idea that somebody could recognize him now, Lucifer was dead wrong. He was smiling as he pushed out the door with his elbow, timed to a cheerful "ding!" of the bell as he exited the 7-11. Taco Bell Chalupa in one hand, large cherry slurpee in the other, he set out on foot, opting against taking one of his more distinguishable automobiles. His feet felt the Los Angeles pavement as unfamiliar in these trainers (or sneakers, as the retail store clerk insisted) – still high-end, of course, but a far cry from his typical more fashionable footwear. He wore dark blue jeans (having said a hearty "hell no" to wearing anything khaki) and an equally dark simple t-shirt, which fit oddly at the collar. After choosing to wear tailored shirts with proper collars for the past several years, this ensemble felt more than just dressing down to him. Topping it all off with a snapback and a gold chain around his neck, a style he had seen in many people throughout the years in this city, Lucifer thought smugly to himself that he had done a pretty good job of blending in. After all, he couldn't risk exposing himself to any who would recognize him; least of all, somebody from the precinct or any of his siblings, three of which were currently in the city of angels, most likely only a few blocks from him.
So here he was, not realizing just how much he missed food or taste in general, taking a loud swig from the slurpee before enjoying a bite of the chalupa. Ah, simple food. There was something about coming back to earth after some time away that made him appreciate all the things this planet had to offer. While it had only been about a month in earth time, it had felt much, much longer down in that hot, disgusting Hell. By all means, he should still be down there, but he hadn't been able to take waiting. Lucifer Morningstar was not a patient man. Just the thought of waiting made his legs thrum in boredom, eventually to the point where his whole body was vibrating with the desire to take a short vacation. Yes, that's what he was calling this. A very short, completely under-the-radar vacation.
Being only a few blocks from the precinct, Lucifer had chosen this particular location as the perfect spot to enact his incognito plan. Upon his ascent back to earth, he had landed on his familiar beach and had been greeted by partly cloudy skies and similarly oppressive heat as he had just left. That salty breeze had enveloped him in welcome, but having no time to dally about, he had quickly set his ingenious plan in motion.
Lucifer found a bench past the strip mall, a bright green metal seat above a concrete base (could you say brutalism?) with an "ADVERTISE HERE" sign on it. The sun was beating down, no shade in sight. Sighing disgruntledly at the state of such a common piece of furniture he was resorting to associating with, Lucifer raised his arms and sat on the hot seat gingerly. The entertainment in front of him as he finished his dinner were cars that rumbled in wait, air conditioning blasting as they idled impatiently for the streetlight at the intersection to turn green. This was not where Lucifer would have seen himself even a month prior.
"Mr. Morningstar?" A velvety, smooth voice interrupted his self-reflection. Lucifer looked up, smiling widely to see his "plans in motion" helper, standing in a cute dress and bearing the happy, flushed expression of somebody who had recently gotten too close to his brother.
"Yes?" He asked sweetly, wiping his hands on the napkin it came in, and gesturing for her to sit next to him. She took a quick, grossed out look at the bench before smiling uncertainly and joining him.
"She's in the precinct," the woman said quickly, voice a bit breathless and eyes shining. "It was very nice in there. People were very friendly."
"Would you say…calm and collected?" Lucifer hazarded a guess, cocking his head. She nodded, face releasing into a full smile.
"Yes, yes I would," she said dreamily, sneaking her hand up his thigh. A car honked in front of them, but Lucifer bore it no mind. "It's very nice in there. You're very nice, too. Would you like to come back to my apartment?"
In between his mixtures of horror and anger, he managed to smile for her, politely declining. The woman, whose name he hadn't bothered to learn (he was in a hurry, damn it), looked upset but certainly not too annoyed as she stood up and walked away. She couldn't help it, there were too many artificial influences on her feeble human brain to think straight. A part of him languished after her and the physical comfort she had been offering, but he sternly told himself off. Now was not the time, and this was a minor inconvenience for the truth.
So Michael was currently in the precinct with Chloe. He had to get a closer look. But how? That place was impossible to sneak in without being detected. He wouldn't be able to get in himself, but maybe he didn't need to in order to have eyes inside.
An idea forming in his head, he took out the burner phone he had purchased specifically for this trip. If he could somehow get in contact with the right person…
A phone call and two transfers later, the familiar voice of a perky forensic scientist met his ears.
"Forensics," she said, sounding very distracted. He dryly thought to himself the most likely reason why.
"Don't freak out, it's me, Lucifer," Lucifer began. He waited a moment to give her the proper amount of time to move past any auditory reactions before continuing. "This is a secret matter, Miss Lopez. Please don't tell anybody I called you. I need your very capable help."
"Are you sure my help is the help you need?" Ella asked with a knowing voice; under the surface of her tone, he could hear the excitement seeping through. He could practically see her grin from this side of the phone, and he rolled his eyes at the stream of cars that began moving with the traffic light's change to green. Oh, Miss Lopez.
"I'm looking for somebody important, and I think you may be in the exact right location to help me," he said further, his voice hinting at the hopefully obvious connection. Much to his disappointment, Ella did not bite.
"Who are you looking for?" She asked breezily, tone indicating she was distracted again.
"He's shorter than me with dark curly hair, dark eyes, feelings that make you all happy and relaxed?" He asked, sarcasm dripping into his attempted normal tone. "Perhaps in your very vicinity?"
Ella gasped in excitement.
"You mean Michael? He's here right now!" She whispered breathlessly. "Lucifer, he's great! And he's really handsome. Not that you needed to know that. You definitely didn't need to know that. I mean, you're handsome. Not that I think –"
"Yes, breathe, Ella," he reminded impatiently, foot tapping against the sidewalk in thoes uncomfortable shoes. He would need to change out of them as soon as possible. "What's he doing there? Is he talking to the detective?"
"Yeah, they just went in the interrogation room. Not interrogating – Chloe, I mean. I think they went there to talk."
"Alone?" His heart seemed to stop. What was Michael after? Was he planning to hurt her?
"Of course, silly. Why?" Ella didn't seem to concerned. Of course she didn't. "Oh hey, Dan!"
Dan. Of course. Perhaps he could help…
"Ella, can I talk to Detective Dou – Espinoza?" He asked as politely as he could through gritted teeth.
"Sure!" There was a jostling noise, some offhand comments ("Who is it?" "Lucifer, can you believe it?" "LUCIFER?" "SHHHHHHHHHH! It's a secret!") and the phone got handed to Chloe's ex-husband. Lucifer rolled his eyes hard and worked on keeping this part of the conversation pleasant.
"Lucifer? Where have you been? I could be so angry right now, but honestly I don't really care," Detective Espinoza said. He seemed to be struggling to be angry, indeed. Lucifer was impressed he was fighting the happy thoughts in the first place. "Look, you hurt Chloe. And that's just not cool."
"Detective Espinoza, nice to hear from you again too," Lucifer said smoothly, bypassing the last remark. "Look, I need you to keep an eye out on Michael. He seems untrustworthy and far too interested in the detective."
"Why should that matter to me?" the other man asked in a flippant tone. "I'm not her keeper. But he doesn't seem like a bad guy, Lucifer. Maybe you should talk to her yourself. And apologize."
"Yes, well I can't," Lucifer emphasized. "The man she's speaking to…he's my brother, and he is not the right person for her to be around – at all. He has a calming effect on people, and that's why you're all so annoyingly happy right now." He sighed, knowing his explanation would fall on deaf ears.
"He's your brother?" Detective Espinoza sounded surprised. "Where do you – never mind, you must have one massive adopted family. Look, I trust my gut in these situations, and my gut is telling me he's an okay guy."
"Yes, well, your gut would, wouldn't it?" Lucifer huffed. "Thanks for your complete lack of help, Detective Douche." He hung up with a graceful flourish, before taking another long sip from his rapidly-melting slurpee.
Well, with Michael's effects around, this was going to be more difficult than he thought. He got up, tossing the rest of his mostly finished slurpee into the trash can next to the bench before putting the burner phone in his back pocket (no nice suit jacket pocket to stick it in now) and setting off down the sidewalk, which was busy with passerby who didn't give him second glances. He knew one of his siblings was close by keeping tabs on Michael, but he wasn't entirely sure which one. Just in case, he kept a watchful eye on people mingling nearby as he debated on a formal break-in to the precinct. Alas, his dream to blend in seemed doomed from the start, when the alarmed face of his younger sister appeared in front of him, and then he was being pulled to a nearby alley.
"Rae-Rae, fancy meeting you here!" Lucifer exclaimed in mock surprise, a grin settling on his face. "I was out for a nice stroll, taking a quick breather from the dreadful boredom of Hell, and –"
"Lu, what are you doing here?" Azrael asked in a mortified tone, wide eyes made even wider by the presence of her plate-sized glasses. "Michael is inside! You need to go back to Hell now!"
"I can't." He shrugged, arms out with a firm expression. "Look, nobody at the precinct will listen because of his stupid charming ways, and I don't want the detective getting in the middle of our family squabbles. And yet he has her alone! Right now! You of all people should know how dangerous that is!"
"I know," Rae-Rae enunciated, holding out her arms in a mirror fashion. "Look, Lu. Amenadiel and I are ready to confront him. I need to get back in there and back him up. And you need to go back to Hell."
"Can't I stay and wait for the postgame report?" He asked sweetly. His favorite sibling stared at him with wide eyes before resigning her argument with a sigh.
"Stay out of sight and wait for me. Do not try anything. If Amenadiel finds out you've left Hell, he's going to be angry. And you know how he is when he gets angry."
Lucifer rolled his eyes for the second time today.
"I remember," he said, "more than you know." But he agreed to wait, hiding in the shadows of the alley like a common street criminal. Azrael gave him one last stern look – so adorable on her young face – before disappearing back inside. Lucifer huffed in annoyance and shuffled his feet, hating the feel of the trainers.
"Blasted – things –" he cursed as he stopped and worked on kicking them off. Even going barefoot would be easier than this, and he was far enough away from the detective that he shouldn't bleed if he stepped on something bad. He couldn't just sit here though. He'd go mad waiting. Azrael had simply told him to stay out of sight. She hadn't said specifically where that had to be. And home was calling with all of his favorite things: liquor, his two beautiful pianos, an excellent sound system, and a fresh change of clothes. Perhaps he could even pick out a new suit for the inevitable return to his dismal, dreary hell.
Once safely in the back of an Uber, tuning out the cheerful top 40's music that wafted through the car speakers and the blissfully silent driver, Lucifer thought back to the situation at hand. Amenadiel and Azrael claimed they had it covered. But he wished he had the guts to face Michael on his own.
How would that conversation turn out, anyway? Lucifer thought back to his life back before he'd been cast out of the Silver City, when human creation was an idea in Dad's mind and all angel siblings, driving each other up a wall as siblings tended to do, learned and grew together in knowledge. Michael had always strived to be the perfect son, more so than even Amenadiel. He took great care in learning from God, drinking in every word he said, paying attention to the finer details. When Dad had laid out his plan to create earth and all in it, they had all been tentative, but Michael had embraced it most fully. So in seven heavenly days (time passed by faster there than on earth, meaning millions of earthly years happened in the meantime [who said science didn't appreciate creation?]) all of creation was made. Lucifer, being the ever-curious being, was enamored by the idea of the free will of human creation and didn't regret the decisions he had made to get to know Eve better. What he didn't realize was what kind of chaos this would unleash on his dad's little "pet project," resulting in him being responsible for the punishment and misery of all who sinned from the human race.
Of all the moments that had steered him to where he was today, in the back of this vanilla-scented Uber, there was nothing he clung to more than that final memory of the Silver City. God hadn't even bothered to show him the door himself; no, his older brother, ever the dutiful child, had seemed more than pleased to be rid of him judging by that smirk engrained in Lucifer's memory. He remembered the last glance he had of his once home – the gates, the stars he had created, the vast warmth of heaven that bathed him in its glow – ruined by the twisted face of a brother who was determined he be punished for the very sin of free will. Michael did truly haunt his memories, and the thought of that meeting with the very brother who sent him to Hell, now eons later, made his palms feel sweaty. He realized he was nervous.
Nervous? Him? That was ridiculous.
