Dear Readers,
I am raising the rating of this story to T, because of minor violence and some course language. It is not too detailed or serious, but there will be some blood in this chapter (and more of it in the next one). I believe I am staying within the violence level of the original show.
Big 'thank you' to everone who is reading this story, and special thanks to these who left encouraging reviews.
Ida
XIII.
The guy responsible for styling the outfits during undercover operations measured Chloe with a careful glance and nodded.
"That will do. You look cheap," he judged with such tone as if he was complimenting her. "Just add some crappy makeup. Make sure to overdo the mascara."
"Okay," nodded Chloe, searching the box with makeup utensils for the lipstick that would be pink enough. She was happy that the stylist let her stay in her own clothes, instead of forcing on her some stuff from his magazine. On the morning she specifically chose the baggiest jeans and jumper she found in her wardrobe.
"But your partner needs to change."
Lucifer stood at the corridor, clothed and groomed with no less than his usual perfection. In spite of the distance, he heard the stylist and turned to him blinking with surprise.
"I will find you something in a second. Unkempt and cheap, that's how you need to look like," explained the guy at the unspoken question.
"Did I just hear the blasphemy?" muttered Lucifer, entering the room. His eyes widened at the view of the basket full of washed-out jeans and training suits. Chloe knew that they came from the precinct magazine, but they looked more like garment sale in the second-hand shop. "I can change but I am not going to wear rugs."
"That's fine, really. He does not need to change," intervened Chloe, feeling every way like a Jedi, trying to mind trick the poor stylist.
It didn't work.
"I am just trying to do my job. From what I heard, you are to walk around some dodgy motel without paying attention," defended the man. "In case of troubles, your story is that you are trying to buy drugs. Does he," the man pointed a bit dramatically at Lucifer, who replied with a flashing smile, "look like the guy trying to buy drugs in the cheap motel?"
"Of course not! I never buy drugs in the motels. Usually, I..."
"Do not tell in the middle of the police station," interrupted Chloe and turned against to the stylist: "Look, there is no need. He will stay behind."
"Most certainly I will not!"
Chloe stopped herself from rolling her eyes again. She could do it. She had, after all, experience with children. For Heaven's Sake, she had organized childer party once! Sending the calming smile both to the stylist and to Lucifer, she repeated: "No need to fuss. Lucifer would do just fine, he could buy drugs anywhere if he wanted. Everything's going to be fine."
Everything was going to be fine. Perhaps it was not going to be a walk in the park, but the chances of success were high enough so that she could feel more excited than anxious. Adrenaline high in her veins, Chloe was in that special state of mind and body just before the action, concentrated and ready.
Based on Durham's statement, the SWAT unit was to raid the laboratory. On the same time, the LAPD was to arrest the dealers, that should be hiding in the motel "Albatross". The only problem was that "The Albatross" was a big and cheap motel at the city outskirts, consisting of few buildings, surrounded by garages and storage accommodations, all these without proper surveillance. There was no way that the police would manage to close the whole area. Therefore, tonight a few detectives were to search the motel in undercover, trying to locate the dealers and pass the number of their room to the squad responsible for the arrest, waiting in a safe distance from the motel.
Chloe took it as a point of honour to be the one who would locate the suspects. She studied the plans of the buildings for hours, trying to decide, which part would be the most likely for the dealers to chose as their hiding. Finally, she decided it would be the building with side entrance situated behind the reach of security cameras.
Perfect for ones whose customers have something to hide, she thought with satisfaction. They must be here.
The detective assigned these part of "The Albatross" to be searched for herself, leaving the rest for other detectives – and Lucifer, as to avoid attention, the detectives were to check the place not in pairs but individually. She felt a bit guilty choosing for her partner the area that was the least likely to be the one chosen by the criminals: the ground floor of the main building, just behind the lodge, monitored both by the motel and by the street surveillance. It was perhaps a bit unfair, but a necessary precaution. This time, the detectives were not to engage in interactions, but only to locate the suspects. It required consideration and discretion and Lucifer was all but these. His idea of searching for the suspects was most probably to burst into the motel calling: "Hello, nasty dealers! Where are you?" So, Chloe, turning his reluctance against paperwork against him, decided to study the buildings plans alone and took the single-handed decision to send him he wouldn't do any harm.
"Do not take your car, Chlo," advised Dan, peeking into her room. He was allocated to the squad responsible for the arrest. "You used him in the last action, and during Durham's arrest. They might have noticed and associated it with the LAPD."
Chloe nodded in agreement.
"And your car is too distinctive," Dan said to Lucifer, eyeing the taller man with a certain reluctance. "You both can drive with us, we will put you down in some distance from the motel."
Lucifer measured Dan with mocking glance and grimaced sniffing as if he felt some unpleasant smell. "Not happening as long as you are treating your car like dustbin for junk food containers," he replied and drawled: "Do not worry, Dear Douche. I will park in some dark corner."
Chloe smiled to Dan apologizingly couldn't help but recall how messy the inside of Dan's car usually was, one more cause of their quarrels. One more of these stupid little things that ruined our marriage, she thought sadly. Well, no matter, not now. Now we all have job to do.
Seeing that Lucifer is ready, she cast one last glance to the mirror – yes, the makeup was crappy enough – and took her bag, heading for the elevator.
"But… Chlo?..." she heard Dan calling behind her when they were stepping into the cabin. The doors were already swooshing to close and she barely managed to cast a quick glance at her ex-husband. Why did he look so… disappointed? Has she done something?
Ah. He thought she would be driving with him, instead with Lucifer.
Enough strangely, but she didn't even consider this option.
They arrived at "The Albatross" from the backside. Chloe started to fear that perhaps Lucifer drove a bit too near to the target, pulling the car almost under the motel's windows. This Corvette was, after all, distinctive. Luckily when they reached suitable parking place, the street lanterns over them flickered a few times and went out.
Perfect, thought Chloe, seeing that the car was barely visible in the darkness.
"Seems we have luck," she said to her partner. "Let's hope it sticks to us. You sure you know what to do?"
"I am not dense, Detective," he replied, quite harshly for him. "Cannot we go together?"
"Two people walking together arise more suspicions," Chloe shook her head. She reached for the plan of the motel with tagged sections marked on them and lightened them with her phone, to make sure that Lucifer knew where he needed to go.
"The other detectives would be alone as well. You know it is not about getting these men down, right? There is a squad that would do it. All we need is to spot them. Avoid confrontation. If somebody asks you, make some story. I am sure you will manage," the detective smiled encouragingly.
"Yes I will, will you?" muttered her partner, casting a quick glance at the plans.
Chloe frowned, for moment wondering, why Lucifer got so cranky. Yesterday they had a perfectly friendly evening in the LUX, conversing on some light subjects over a few drinks. Lucifer appeared absolutely at ease, Maze kept her distance and nothing strange happened. Today she manoeuvred him through the preparations to the operations without any bigger misunderstandings. Why this bad humour now? For a second Chloe thought he read her little trick. Well, it was her decision and she had the right to take it.
"Something's wrong?" she asked a bit challengingly. After all, she was leading their team. And she was done with men patronizing her.
Lucifer turned to her. His expression was not angry, or patronizing, only absolutely confused.
"I have no idea, Detective," he said shaking his head. "I just have such a strange feeling… yet I cannot decipher it… Ah, let's go," he cut off the conversation, getting quickly out of the car before she managed to ask further questions.
The detective slowly walked through the motel, passing one door after another. It was dark, so lights behind the windows were indicating, whether the rooms were occupied. In such case, she tried to peek inside a thought the hole between curtains, or listen to the sounds coming from inside. From Durham she knew, that there should be three men engaged in dealing. Considering the hour, it was a big chance they would all be at the room, receiving customers. Such guests should be easy to notice.
Chloe corrected her clothes. The last time she wore them must have been after Trixie's birth when her body was still returning to the shape. Now, hanging around her, they fulfilled the goal of making her look haggard, but she felt uncomfortable. She pushed her badge deeper into the pocket, preventing it from slipping out. Well, at least the gun was fastened securely to her ankle.
The loud conversation in one of the rooms pulled her attention. She couldn't make out words but heard a few men talking and laughing. The shutters were pulled down and the curtains securely drawn…
Bingo, thought Chloe with a smile. She stopped for a moment, observing the room, to make sure that she was as right.
The door opened and Chloe flattened herself to the wall, to remain unnoticed. The young man went out and, without looking aroung, strode quickly toward the parking.
A customer, noted the detective.
"Come in," sounded the man's voice and Chloe realized that one of the dealers went out from the room. He was looking straight at her. "Well, stop hiding, chick. Come in. I know what you came for."
The detective kept straight face, fighting the stress under control. They simply thought she was another customer. She could manage this.
"Yeah," she said stepping inside. "Hi."
The detective looked around the room, internally smirking because all three dealers were present. Great, the LAPD would get them all at once. Two of them, now staring at her, were sitting on the couch. On the table in front of them nothing but a few bottles of beer. However, the detective immediately spotted the black sports bag on one of the beds – the first place she would check searching for the drugs.
The man who invited her to the room, pushed her a bit further inside, closing the door behind her.
"What is it going to be?" asked the man who invited her.
Okay, she would buy something, getting ultimate confirmation that these are the men the LAPD was looking for, and go her way, without alerting them about the trap. "Uhm… I have fifty bucks," she said, trying to appear hesitant.
As expected, the man headed for the bag and opened the zipper. The detective made a step forward, trying to see the content when she felt a hand squeezing her buttock.
"Care for a special discount?" the man from the couch leered at her.
The detective fought the instinct of knocking the fist into his nose. "No," she said instead grabbing his wrist to remove his hand from her behind.
"Come on," the man sneaked the hand higher under her blouse. Chloe winced, feeling the touch on the naked skin. "You want to have some fun." He tried to pull her on the couch and Chloe twisted violently pushing him back.
"Get lost," she snapped, freeing herself. "I just want to…"
She stopped feeling that in the hustle something heavy slipping out of her pocket, falling on the floor, just under the feet of the dealer…
Her badge.
Fuck, she thought and heard the dealers shouting the same, meaning that they noticed the badge as well. She rapidly leant to reach the gun hidden by her ankle, but the man behind her was quicker, grabbing her hair and crashing her forehead over the table. The pain dazed her, the vision blackened and she slumped down for a moment.
"A fucking cop."
Chloe felt them dragging her to her feet, someone twisting her arms behind her. One of the dealers stepped in front of her. She blinked a few times to regain the clarity of vision and tried to struggle off the daze.
"What are you doing here? Where are the others?"
Chloe let her head fell down on the chest, pretending she slumped down again, and then straightened rapidly, kicking the man in front of her in the groin. He fell down with a loud moan. Satisfied, she immediately jerked her head to the rear, trying to hit the face of the man keeping her arms. She heard him cursing, but he didn't let her off and before she managed to try something else, she felt the blade pressing her throat with such strength that the blood started to drip on her blouse.
The knife was kept by the third dealer, now standing in front of her, in place of his colleague, slowly grambling from the floor.
"Stand still, bitch," he said. "And talk."
The threat of the knife pressed painfully into her flesh, forced Chloe to stop fighting. She tried to grip the fear into control and find a way out of the situation. So far, the dealers didn't know they were targeted by the police and it would be best to keep them from learning it. If they believed that she was alone, at least they wouldn't try to take her as a hostage. Chloe quickly considered risks. These men were aggressive, but she didn't think they would try to kill the cop just like that. They would fear consequences. If she managed to convince them that her presence here was accidental and she posed no further risks…
"I was checking this motel," she replied slowly. "That's all. Now, I am a cop, so keep your hands off me."
Mistake, she realized at the moment she finished speaking. The face of the man in front of her twisted in the angry scowl.
"One of these fucking bitches that nose around? Just a few days ago another like you sent a good guy to prison," he growled, not withdrawing the knife from her face.
Alex Durham, thought the detective, Anne and the girls, they were recognized as undercover. Oh God, I would need to warn them. That is if she managed to get out of this. Chloe felt the wave of fear. It didn't look good. The man keeping her was painfully twisting her hands, the one in front of her pressing the knife so that her blood was dripping over the edge and looking at her with such hate, that she wasn't so sure whether they weren't going to kill her anymore.
No, no. There was no use if giving into fear. She would wait for a suitable moment and fight.
"You know what? You won't show your face here any longer," then the man in front of her stepped even closer and grabbed her hair at the neck. Twisting her head, he pressed the knife to her cheek, just near the ear. "I will sign you."
Chloe cried, feeling sharp pain and the warm trickle of blood run down her face.
"No, stop. She will be bloody like a pig." It was the other man, the one whom she kicked down. The one who leered at her at the beginning. Now he raised to his feet and stared at her again. "You cut her when I finish with her."
He stepped in front of her, taking the knife from his companion and Chloe, despite her resolve, sunk in panic, seeing his expression. She wanted to call for help, but after her the first sound the man placed a big palm over her mouth. Keeping the knife in the second hand, he started to cut her jumper, tugging in up and down, tearing the fabric and occasionally catching the skin.
Chloe writhed, cursing herself for the sob of pain she didn't manage to stifle. She was not going to cry. She going to give these tugs satisfaction. She would wait for a moment to free herself and then…
Behind her back, the door slammed. Chloe heard the third dealer, the one who wasn't occupied by holding her, curse – and she realized that her moment may have just come. Something rumbled and the man who was cutting her blouse, stepped back, following his companion. The detective immediately twisted, freeing one hand. She hooked the knee of the man holding her and used her second arm as leverage to throw him down. The dealer landed on the floor with the most satisfying thud and Chloe, finally free, dealt a well-aimed kick into his face. Seeing that he was still trying to scramble from the ground, she repeated the kick, barely restraining herself from the third blow, after noticing that the man fall limply on the floor. Instead, she turned on the spot to check the situation behind her.
The situation behind her was stable.
One of the dealers was lying motionless on the floor, the wall over him seriously cracked and the other one, conscious and relatively unharmed was being held in place by Lucifer, writhing desperately to break away from his grasp. Lucifer barely paid attention to his struggle, his eyes fixed on Chloe with a silent question.
The detective took a shaky breath, trembling with anger and adrenaline. The man held by her partner was the one who cut her clothes and chest. The one who didn't want to rape her bleeding like a pig. Chloe moved her eyes to Lucifer and met his sight hoping, that – even if she didn't tell – he would somehow simply know, what was that she desired.
And he did.
Lucifer smirked knowingly and with an approving nod released the man, pushing him slightly toward Chloe.
Luckily the dealer was stupid enough to launch himself at Chloe, probably hoping to take her as a hostage. That made things easier. Now she could without remorse punch him in the solar plexus and when he crouched, use her elbow to smash his nose. The man tried to swing at her, but she dodged. Two swift and well-aimed blows into his jaw sent him unconscious.
After that the detective for a moment stood motionless, hearing in silence only her own heavy breaths, looking at unconscious men and avoiding Lucifer's sight. Het cuts and bruises started to pain and she became all too aware of her battered appearance. Crooking her head, she let her hair fell down to cover at least the wounded cheek. She didn't want to look… defeated.
Suddenly, all the emotions she didn't acknowledge in the fight, fell over her in a total mess. She felt angry and scared. Yes, now she was scared. These men could have hurt her or killed, all because of some stupid coincidence. And she felt ashamed and humiliated, so ashamed of her idiotic foul-up, and so humiliated because of these men treating her like a piece of meat, and because she never, ever wanted to be saved by anyone.
"What are you doing here?" she snapped to Lucifer, not able to hide the anger. "I told you to go to another building." Oh, damn, how terribly it sounded. She should thank him. Hug him, perhaps cry to ease the tension. But her eyes were dry and her emotions were boiling.
"Well, you did," replied lightly Lucifer, to her immense relief sounding like his usual self, as if nothing happened. "But when I was in the middle of this senseless walk you entrusted to me, I understood what was this strange feeling gnawing me. I realized I was worried, Detective, worried about you," he said with a grin, that stripped all potential gravity from his words. "I was tempted to follow you, and you know my attitude toward temptation. So, this time, instead of humouring you with fulfilling my fruitless assignment, I decided to humour myself and search for you."
Somehow he sounded as if it was all about himself. Damn, he knew her well. The feeling of humiliation eased a bit and Chloe took a deep breath, feeling her pulse slowing into a normal pace.
"I am glad that you did," she admitted with a slight smile. "What about this one?" the detective pointed at the man lying under the cracked wall. What a shitty motel it was, this wall must have been made of cardboard. "You didn't hit him too hard?"
"Oh, no. I am afraid he will be fine," replied Lucifer with distraction and very slowly neared to her. He moved so gently, that Chloe didn't back when he reached to move aside her hair, revealing the cut on her face and scratches on her chest.
"Oh, Detective," he sighed, slightly brushing the trail of blood on her cheek with his fingertips with unspeakable tenderness in his eyes.
And then, in surprising contrast to the previous gentleness, he rapidly tilted, shutting his eyes closed and turning back.
"You have a problem with looking at the blood?" asked Chloe, worried.
"No," he replied, but she must have been right because he was still turned back and his voice sounded strangled.
"There is nothing to be ashamed of, plenty of peopled have it," observed Chloe, trying to wipe out the blood with the remains of her jumper, to ease his discomfort. "Well, let's call our strike squad. Not that there is much work for them left."
"Do we really need to call them, Detective?" asked Lucifer very quietly and there was some begging undertone in his voice. He slowly turned back to her, but still avoided meeting her sight.
"Of course," Chloe shrugged her shoulders and tried to gather the remains of her blouse around her. Now, when she thought about meeting other policemen, her insecurity returned. Damn, she did look miserable. "Shit, I hate to let them see me like this."
Blood was the slightest problem. Her jumper was ragged into shreds. Everyone would know it was practically cut off from her. Once again, she tried to arrange the fabric again, her movements getting a bit hectic.
"Come on, Detective," commented Lucifer, observing her efforts. "I know you have no reasons to think high about your corrupted colleagues, but you cannot believe that they would get excited seeing you like this when they can watch the movie with the clean and unhurt version," he snorted, but still took off his jacket and handed it to her.
"No, thank you," Chloe refused taking it. "It would be even worse if I went out in your clothes. And it is not about getting excited, of the movie – thanks for bringing it on, though," the detective bitterly thought about all these Decker-do-not-likes-to-stay-in-her-clothes jokes she was going to hear. "It is about… " she hesitated and shook her head, in a loss of words. "You won't understand."
It was about being week and he wouldn't understand it, no matter how observant he was, he wouldn't know how it was to be a woman trying to make a career in the men's job.
Chloe shrugged her shoulders, searched for her bag and retrieved the phone. Only after a few vain trials to unlock it, she realised how her hand trembled. She shouldn't have talked to Lucifer, she should have called earlier, once her adrenaline was still high. Now, after the turmoil of angsty emotions fell down, she felt deadly tired.
And there was still so much to go through.
They would send me to the hospital, Chloe thought gloomily. She hated hospitals. Battered like this, looking every way like the victim, she would have to waiting in the E.R. for examination and dressing and it would take hours till they would let her out.
And then probably she would be asked to see the shrink 'to help her cope with the after- effects of sexual attack'. As if there could be better therapy than the sound of the nose of this sod crunching under her elbow.
"So just call the team and leave," observed Lucifer. "No one needs to see you. I will wait here and hand them over."
"I shouldn't," Chloe shook her head. "That would be unprofessional. There are procedures..."
"Leave it to me," insisted her partner. "Go and wait in for me the car. I will join you in a few minutes and we would ride to the LUX, find you some clothes… You will get a shower, a drink or two and return safely home in no more than two hours."
Damn, that was tempting. No hospital, no questions. No pitiful glances from her colleagues, no troublesome concern from Dan… No jokes… No frightening Trixie with calling the babysitter to tell that 'mammy must wait in the hospital a few hours'.
"Let me take care of everything here and then we would together take care about you," Lucifer encouraged her with the most charming smile, manoeuvring her toward the doors. "Just give me a second and everything will be settled. Give me that phone. I will call."
After all, she wouldn't do anything forbidden. Just use the help of the friend to avoid unnecessary commotion. "Just call the backup immediately, okay?" reminded Chloe, slipping the phone into his hand. "Promise?"
What was supposed to be a rhetorical question, awkwardly hung in the air. The detective turned to her partner with a suspicious glance. "Promise that you won't do anything to them, or I am staying."
"But they deserve…" Lucifer – charming smile gone – bridled angrily, but Chloe stopped him.
"No more people in the asylum, do you promise?" she stressed sharply the last word.
"Yess," Lucifer sighed, prolonging the world into a hiss, his eyes narrowed in irritation. "Do not worry, Detective. And take this, please." Almost angrily he pushed his jacket into her hands again. This time Chloe took it and after getting out of motel change into it, pushing the remains of her blouse into the rubbish dump.
The detective didn't know how long was she sitting in the car, surrounded by darkness, waiting for Lucifer to come. She wasn't scared or angry anymore, only terribly tired. And she couldn't shake off the feeling she is doing something wrong.
"What did you tell them?" she asked as soon as her partner appeared.
"Truth," replied obliviously Lucifer, starting the engine. "That the fight was inevitable, you kicked a few asses and needed to clean and change yourself."
Chloe considered cautiously each word she heard.
"It is truth," she repeated slowly, "and yet it sounds like a lie."
Lucifer looked at her with a half-smile, not his trademark overconfident grin, but entirely different, cryptic and bitter, the expression she never saw by him.
"Truth can be the most sophisticated of lies, Detective," he said quietly and it sounded like a confession.
Chloe knew he would have said something more if she asked him, yet she preferred not to explain, what exactly did he want to confide. She closed her eyes, resting her head on the seat and remained silent during the remaining ride to the LUX.
Why did she have a feeling as if she has just made some choice, a bad choice? It was no big deal, just using the help of a friend, to make her life a bit easier. She was usually so adamant on facing everything the life brought her, day by day, good or bad… This one time, for a change, she could do something just because… just because she wanted it.
And it was not that she was bonding herself with him in any way.
He simply offered help and she accepted it.
No big deal.
They entered the LUX through the back entrance. A few bouncers and staff members saw them, but paid no attention as if there was nothing strange in their boss returning with the woman wearing no more than his jacket and blood-stained jeans.
"I have no first-aid at my place," recalled Lucifer just in front of the elevator. |I will take it from the club."
The detective decided to wait for him. After all, one could never know who would be currently visiting Lucifer's apartment. However, she regretted it immediately, because just after her partner disappeared in the club, from the dark corridor emerged his barmaid bodyguard. Chloe was not afraid of her, but she had enough of kicking asses for one day.
Of course, Maze made a beeline for the detective, watching Chloe from head to toe with deliberate insolence. "Huh, I see that the fun started early today," she observed mockingly. "And somebody here likes it rough."
Of course, Maze looked perfect. Her makeup, hair, leather costume. And Chloe… Chloe was not going to be intimidated. She took a deep breath and straightened. "Yeah, a few guys actually. They got exactly what they liked," she said challengingly.
Maze raised the eyebrows, looking at the bruises and cuts on Chloe's face. However, her sight changed from sneering to scrutinizing. "Good," she nodded shortly, to the detective's utmost surprise. "The wounds given by the knife heal quickly and leave little scars," the barmaid added obliviously and went her way.
Surprised, Chloe looked behind her for a moment. Seems that the ice was broken, she thought with a smirk.
Chloe didn't like Lucifer's bathroom. It was huge but, like in the hotel rooms, always prepared for guests, with the stock of fresh unused towel and cosmetics. Just as if any second a horde of strangers might need to use it, thought sneeringly Chloe, knowing well that this was exactly the case. In Lucifer's apartment his personal space was the piano and the library, all the rest was aimed to entertain the crowds of guests that visited it freely each time of the day and night.
But this time he locked the elevator, thought the detective, surprised with the satisfaction she felt recalling it.
She gladly washed off the blood and sweat, feeling as if the water rinsed also her the stress and fatigue. Once she stepped out of the shower, she felt composed and shivered only at the recollection of her stupid foul-up.
The cuts on her body sting, but the deepest one was on her cheek. Chloe decided to apply paper stitches on it, to avoid a visible scar. Not that the scar would be such a tragedy, she already had some. Her sight ran to the scar on her shoulder, a reminder of Jimmy Barnes. Apart from that, she had a year old, barely visible scar left by the broken glass, she got during the standard intervention in the barroom fight. The incident itself was meaningless, but somehow it prolonged her marriage for a few months. She and Dan already were having problems and shortly before that started to discuss the separation. However, when she landed in the hospital, Dan was very concerned. All of a sudden, he had time for her, so worried and caring… Actually, he was very sweet. She almost believed then that the could make it. They started the therapy and for a few months, it was better, before it became worse again.
Chloe lowered her sight to the floor, wondering what would happen if she had waited for Dan and his squad tonight, what would happen if he saw her after her fight in these bloodied and torn clothes. He would be worried. He would certainly insist on taking her to hospital. And if someone said some stupid joke about her, he would overreact, as usual. Dan couldn't accept her strength and independence, but when she needed him, he was always there to help.
Who knows, perhaps he would be so sweet and caring once again. Perhaps she would enjoy it. Perhaps this could change something.
Still, it didn't happen.
She reached for the clothes that Lucifer found for her: black leggings – strange, but somehow she did hope that they belonged to Maze, not to one of his many admirers that used to freely scatter their garments in his apartment – and one of his black shirts. For a moment she frowned at the choice. Somehow, she expected him to give her something ridiculously tight, red and sexy, not the shirt that on her was long enough to cover her tights.
Now she realized, that – except from rather innocent, according to his standards, remark about her embarrassing movie - he didn't say even one innuendo for the whole evening. And the clothes were simply left it under the door without the slightest suggestion, that she should let him into the bathroom.
That was not like Lucifer at all.
If it had been anyone but him, she would have assumed that her host was thoughtful. Careful not to hurt the feelings of the woman who was threatened by rape. However, Lucifer was never thoughtful. He had no respect for any decorum and mostly didn't understand even his own feelings, not mentioning being emphatic to the others.
He is giving up his image, thought Chloe with a smile because she realized that much of Lucifer's boisterous and exhibitionistic persona was a way to hide overgrowing emotions.
'I was worried about you.' The way he said it suggested that it was something reproachful, but what mattered was that he cared about her. With the sting of anxiety, she recalled, that he said also something else, something a bit off, what worried her, but at the moment she could not put her finger to it, so she let it go.
We are friends, decided Chloe, combing her wet heir. We are friends and he simply likes me. He wants to learn me better and is worried about me because we are friends.
It sounded so nice and safe.
Chloe exited the bathroom and followed soft sounds of piano. Lucifer was sitting behind it and playing with some simple melody, his fingers running on the keys and repeating the same few tacts in different variations. She was moving quietly, but somehow he heard or felt her, stopped playing and looked at her.
His eyes, usually so full of mischief, now expressed unusual concentration – concentration, patience and some unreadable intent. Chloe never saw him so focused before.
She tried to recall, that she is looking at no one else than her partner, no older than thirty-something and with a maturity level of a teenager, but the man in front of her looked different. He looked like someone who saw much more and knew much more than some playboy musician ever could.
Perhaps it was not about giving up the image. Perhaps it was about giving up the mask. Chloe suppressed the shiver. She wasn't convinced anymore, that their relations were that safe.
"A drink, Detective?" proposed Lucifer, taking from the piano the glass filled with amber liquid and reaching toward her. "I thought this would be more suitable to the occasion than an apple."
He chuckled and Chloe frowned, not sure what he is referring to. Ah, yes. The devil – the apple, she recalled. His private joke.
Then she noticed that there was something off in the scene. There was only one glass on the piano as if he wasn't drinking himself, only waiting for her to take it. And she wasn't especially fond of brandy, he knew it but still made the choice for her. The strangest, a bit rude even, was that he didn't stand up and approach her only remained seated behind his piano, with the glass in the outstretched hand.
She frowned slightly and he replied to her with a smirk, not moving from the piano.
"You need to take it yourself. I told you, free will is imperative."
She wasn't sure if it was a private joke anymore. For a moment she felt as if participating in some arranged scene, which meaning was clear to him, but not to her. Still, there was a challenge in his voice and she never backed away from the challenge. The slight sense of danger made it even more exciting.
Looking him in the eye, she neared to the piano and took the glass from his hand. Their fingertips met and this touch burned longer than alcohol flowing down her throat.
Neither of them said anything, but the concentration in his eyes gave place to satisfaction and the tension between slowly subsided.
"A song or two, before we drive you home?" he proposed, with the usual ease in his voice. "Any orders?"
"Your choice," she replied, sinking on the couch with the glass in her hand. She listened to him playing, sipped the remains of her drink and felt so very much on her place.
And then she recalled it, his words from earlier that sounded of: 'Instead of humouring youI decided to humour myself.' Was it really how he saw it? Humouring her? All their partnership, their work, his help and… kindness toward her…Was it only… humouring her? It sounded as of he was doing it just on a whim. Dan said something like this. Was it all a whim, a trick, a lure?..
Chloe closed her eyes and shoved her doubts aside. She didn't want to think about Dan. She wanted to listen to music and enjoy it.
And if for Lucifer it was some kind of a game, at the moment she very much wanted to play with him.
At the moment, she even wouldn't mind losing.