AN:

Sorry I'm late (Lucifer's been a real pain in the ass to pick the proper suit for this chapter, you Princess Devil!)

So so so, we're a chapter away from the…. date!

Excited? I'm super-duper-EXCITED!

A big thank you to OkamiShadou98 & Alindorie (both such amazing beta & crazy demons to talk with - xoxo girls!)

Also, of course - a thousand times - thank you to everyone for reading & commenting/reviewing this fic since chap1 - such a loooooong ride with amazing people :3 (and still many roads to drive on)

Now!

Music

Stole My Heart | Beasts with no name


COOLER THAN THE MOB

18


Casting doubts on facts, any decent detective shares such a character trait. Evidence would only turn into unshakeable facts at the very end of the investigation, with the door cell slowly sliding shut before the culprit's face. And even then... doubts would never really be locked up with guilt.

Right now, Chloe doubts as much as there are yet unquestionable facts.

Proof has been made that an empty stomach doesn't stop its harsh movements from bottom to the toilet bowl. She would really like to know how her body manages to expel even more than the alcohol drunk the day before, as how many drinks had led her to such nauseating results.

No way she will drink as much next time.

Her wound looks more like a slight lump and still… still, pain rises and falls. It spreads in her hair, which she keeps pulling away from the nauseating syphon, right before each new sobbing hiccup against the ceramic. The ceramic, too. Cold, even through the bedsheet she had pulled in a rush and wrapped around her fragile nudity. Staying naked has advantages, like for sleeping. Puke, that too. Also, the sweat kneading fabric and breasts, plastering hair to the nape of her neck - it's less unpleasant than 'hangover' stickiness with all her clothes on, from shirt to shoes. Less to remove before dragging herself to the shower cabin.

When she could drag herself to the shower cabin.

Why did she-… why didn't anyone stop her? Why was yesterday nothing more than a nonsensical storm of images and sounds?

Chloe's hands tighten around the toilet bowl. Her breath warms the ceramic beneath her cheek. Her swallowing around the acidity stuck down her throat beat time with her heart, or almost. Her entire upper body bent over, pressed into submission towards the tiny syphon as she breathes in another cramp, fogging up the rim of her toilet until her muscles make one with its shape.

Looking closely at the facts that ripple on water, that rush through her nostrils and fan the fire in her throat; she should move from here. Hiding under the sheet, at least. The tiles in the middle of the wall have been judging her a bit too much, solid and clean while facing the nasty consequences of her night. But those on the floor beneath her are releasing a soft warmth, fanned by the friction of the sheet stuck under her buttocks. Under her arms, too. The tank is freezing the still brutal memory of the blow to her head.

A blow to the head. That, she remembers. That and Lucifer's halo…

She remembers pretty much. No blackout, just foggy. Really foggy and…. she remembers Lucifer, his gaze.

"If my help doesn't help you enough, I'd better get going."

"Good idea."

She buries her face in her knees, groaning through the thickness of the bedsheet.

Well done, Chloe.

Well done 'concussion' - she'd like to retort weakly to her mortified mind. But she was the one, her mind, her actions... she was the one who had decided not to follow the doctors' advice and turn this investigation into some kind of absurd personal crusade. She used to act more professional, more reasonable than that.

Usually.

Searching her fragmented memory - literally - is like searching another's memories, those of her evil doppelganger. Embarrassing. After a minute of mental investigation, the tiles on the floor bruise her backside as much as the ones on the wall condemn her actions, the bedsheet is itchy against her goosebumps-covered skin, and the tank... the tank has long since reached its limit.

Chloe grimaces while swallowing the bitter taste down her throat. A groaning breath follows new memories.

"How am I supposed to—?"

"...-to live without him again?"

She exhales.

"Wanna know what you need?"

A hot shower, water falling strong enough to drown her shame, this is what she needs. That and to rearrange the puking, prostrate, and naked shadow on her bathroom floor back into a smiling, responsible mother.

Chloe's eyes open again. She reaches for the end of the bedsheet stayed stuck under the door, pulling on it once before letting go with a sigh.

Into a smiling, messy mother then.

What's the quote again?

Wash away your sins by praying the Lord's name?

In the shower, she scratches her nails on the tiles, rising scratches on either wide or narrow rivulets, crossing paths on the wall and falling on separated ways along her bare skin, between her breasts pressed against the tiles as well.

Her forehead becoming one with the wall, Chloe pinches a few drops between her lips, all coming down the tip of her nose. They slip on the long-lasting bitter taste in her throat. She looks down at her feet, toes inward-facing as her thoughts come back to Lucifer. His feet, legs tightly embraced by his arms and his back… rounded away from the wall, waiting for the smallest falling drop, a small earthly dose to warm himself up. Prostrate, weakened.

Vulnerable.

That was before. Before this self-confident, strong Lucifer - too strong. But not strong enough for Hell, to protect from here. Strong and present, all the time. For as much time as any human could hope for. And what he seems to hope for is….
A strong partner, as strong as he is.
Stronger than him, maybe. Probably. She... she alone makes him vulnerable.

Chloe frowns, sighing over the water and vapor starting to spread throughout the bathroom. Her hands slide down the wall before turning around, her back pressed against it, her face raised towards the water.

He is here to regain strength, to be with her. To be able to stay with her long enough, longer enough to come back. Again. Always. As strong as they both hope. She and Dan do the same job, neither had ever had to stay home and wait for the other to come back longer than a few hours at night, at worst. She is not one of those military wives who watch their husbands or boyfriends leaving for an indefinite period of time, with that vague outcome. These are people who have no other choice than believe that they would see him again soon enough, like his old-self and well enough to face every hour, day and night without him. They must believe that they would be strong enough to become their partner's shelter, to give him strength when his has run out, to remind him how strong he is every time he has self-doubts.

Becoming an expansion of a strength that isn't ultimately theirs.

Dan is a cop like her. They are equals. She faces the same challenges as he does, the same dangers, fears and doubts.

She had never felt that way before.

"It's just that I'm... I'm-"

"Powerless?"

Chloe turns her head, her hair plastered along her cheek, on her neck, and arms crossed over her chest. She looks at her fuzzy reflection in the translucent glass at the other end of the tub. A fragile shape of humanity, barely warmed up by the water falling on her.

Human.

A human who must become the Devil's strength. An angel's strength.

She hadn't been strong enough for him to avoid risking his life these last months in Hell, even less yesterday, by sending him packing.

She grunts, the back of her head pressed between two tiles of the wall, right in the middle where there is only room for water and forthcoming knots through which her comb would pierce its way, eventually. And that's it. Nothing else. She rubs her face, moving back under the water jet.
Maze is right. As far as Chloe can remember, it sounds like she's been right.

Terrifying thought.

She thinks too much.

She takes the bar of soap from the corner, sliding it back and forth between her hands, in small circles on one wrist, then on the other. Up her arm to her neck. Linda's words trail a path through the locks of hair she just pushed aside. A word, shouted loudly. A list.

The soapy path spreads on her skin. Fast. A list is already taking shape in her mind.

First, make things right between her and Lucifer. Before Trixie's arrival with Dan in thirty minutes and after she'd wash away her... vulnerability.

She's strong enough for that.

Her hair barely brushed, her clothes slowly pulled on, Chloe slumps onto her bed with a groan before closing her eyes. She pulls on her sleeve, wide enough to cover fingers that endlessly grope around every inch of the mattress in search of her phone. Her eyes crack open, the light of the screen not helping to keep them so. Chloe is in no hurry to find out whichever event she might have missed since her blackout, but she's nonetheless quick to scroll through Dan's missed texts and calls, the last one announcing his arrival. She grimaces every now and then with the next ones.

Ella [12:45am] - Maze buried ur body in the forest?

Ella [12:47am] - j/k! (seriously, the picture... looks like she trussed u up b4 throw u in a grave behind ur house)

Chloe frowns.

Picture?

Ella [12:48am] - got the results btw.

Ella [12:49am] - 4 the vial.

Ella [12:50am] - + got u covered 4 the boss this morning (thumb up)

Ella [12:52am] - we're (thumb up), right?

Chloe scrolls through two more texts about Trixie's dentist appointment the following week and a bill, plus a missed call from the Lieutenant and three from Dan - all followed by either a cordial or detached voicemail message, depending on whose call was from. Chloe's grimace lasts longer as she hears Dan's forced detachment. Typical tone, for whenever he's angry.

"Call me if Miss Lopez has any news for the case, Detective."

The mattress squeaks beneath her. She crosses and uncrosses her legs, the soles of her bare feet flattening and setting the carpet hairs back upright several times. She keeps reading, sighing as she sees fifteen other texts from her friend.

Ella [02:01pm] - Really, it's only been a 1time thing.

Ella [02:03pm] - I'll avoid him like the plague if that's what u want! I swear, he just smiled at me - didn't smile back!

Ella [02:10pm] - + u're with Lucifer now. No big deal, is it? Dan and I, it's nothing. WAS nothing.

Ella [02:12pm] - Chloe?

Chloe smiles, both touched and a bit sad to see her friend worrying so much about something so inconsequential. Dan is her ex-husband, sure, yet she hadn't made so much of a fuss about him and Charlotte, knowing that she had been one of her colleagues and friends, even if only for a shorter period of time.

Thinking of Ella with Dan makes her think of him and Charlotte, of their fight.

It's time to set things straight with him too.

Before Lucifer leaves and Dan makes his mind up about it, again.

She sends a text to Ella to reassure her. The forensic is probably on the verge of a panic attack by now, that and busy buying every possible gift online to appease Chloe's imagined wrath. She sighs again, her eyes widening as she opens the next text from Maze, sent earlier this morning.
Agape, she stares without blinking at the picture Ella had mentioned. The humiliating and completely naked starfish on her bed, mouth as much opened and hair covering her shut eyes.

No. No, Ella was talking about a bedsheet.

Exhaling through her nose, Chloe checks the group chat - the tribe talk - and instantly falls on the denounced picture, the one where she has been trussed up tight in her white bedsheets with the words — "Devil's toy."

"Maze, you—" Chloe roars.

She looks for the first picture again, only sent to her, with these texts.

Maze [08:05am] - It's just a start, Decker. 6 months free from cleaning stuff or sent to every1.

Maze [08:06am] - Lucifer 1st.

Chloe squints before looking at her alarm clock. 3:20 AM. Did her patience already run out? Of course it did, Maze has no patience. Yet, she didn't get more texts, neither from Ella nor Lucifer.

Well….

One is psyching herself out about Chloe's tribe hurt feelings and the other might still be upset. With reason.

No.

Maze wouldn't have spared her such humiliation. It seems like she really wants to avoid cleaning. Vacuuming and emptying the dishwasher... her worst nightmare.

Chloe sighs and runs a hand over her face, lingering on the slight lump across her left eyebrow. Her fingers inspect the wound with long, tickling strokes. She opens her eyes on her reflection in the mirror of one of the doors of her dressing room. A woman stares back at her. She's more shriveled than sitting on the edge of the bed, her bloodshot eyes having drained the color from half of her face, from the inner corner of one eye to the higher half of her cheekbone. Her damp hair hides most of the bruise and yet emphasizes her unflattering - miserable even - reflected shape. That and the oversized gray L.A.P.D. sweater she'd kept from the time of her pregnancy, plus the black sweatpants wrapping her feet to toe tips...

Maze's picture is less evil.

She lowers her gaze, overwhelming shame rushing within her as soon as it falls on her phone, twisted and turned between her fingers. She bites her bottom lip, her hand moving from her eyebrow to that damp lock of hair across her gaze, then to her ear, which soon welcomed the rhythmic tones of her rising fear.

She shouldn't be surprised that he picks up that fast.

"Detective! I'm relieved to hear from you."

Her abdominal muscles tense, her breath exhaled faster than she can catch it between her trembling lips.

No more 'neutral' tone.

"You are?"

She presses her lips together. Hers sounds damn miserable.

"Yes. I was starting to think you couldn't manage without outside help," he says, his voice eventually rolling over mocking intonations.

The cramp turns into fist, punching hard between her ribs.

Right.

Nothing to do with her. That was the deal, after all.

She nods, tugging at her sweater, oversized enough to stretch over her knees. Thick enough to contain the wet sting under her eyelids. "Yes, well... you know it takes time."

"Not really, but I'll take your word for it."

Okay. Not making things easy for her, is he?

Chloe takes a deep breath, pushing back the inferno on a long, controlled exhalation. Is it that hard for him to express his feelings clearly? It had never been a problem before, in any other situation.

It shouldn't be for her.

"Okay. I get it, Lucifer. I didn't expect you to make it easy anyway…" she adds in a whisper.

Lucifer's reply is slow to come. "I... I surely had an unfortunate role in this, but the rest is your choice alone."

"I know that. I'm the one who brushed you off, it was stupid and that's why I'm trying to apologize."

"Apologize?" Lucifer repeats. "Det—"

"No." Chloe gets up from the bed, briefly swaying on her feet before walking to the center of the room. Eyes shut, she swallows. "Just... let me do this, okay? I'd... I'd appreciate it if you just... listen to what I have to say."

Did he just mumble 'Again with that….'? Chloe doesn't get time to wonder that he's sighing his assent already. Her resolve disappears into thin air as she looks for words, any valid excuse that would not just excuse her. Right words that wouldn't make her look….

Weak.

Her steps carried her to her bedroom door. The room itself has been enclosing her for far too long. She opens the door, its handle pressed downward several times.

"Thank you. I-" Her breath gets stuck at mid-throat. She coughs, swallows it. "I could blame the concussion for my behavior, but... we both know that would be a lie, don't we?" she whispers with a slight smile.

She almost wishes him cutting her off. She almost wishes him saying something like, "The state of my shirt pretty much looked like the truth, Detective!"

But she doesn't hear a sound from him.

Get to the point, Chloe.

"The truth is... it's stupid, really!" she said, syllables trembling around her tongue. Her fingers slide over the handle as she sighs. "I was stupid. Lucifer, I-..." Chloe freezes, her fingers' hold growing tighter around the handle. "I think someone's broken in my place," she whispers.

She opens her bedroom door further, her gaze towards the end of the corridor and the recess where the staircase leads to the living room. She grabs her gun from the dresser as soon as her suspicions are confirmed. The noise gets mixed up with Lucifer's throat clearing. "Right. About that, Det—"

"Just stay on the phone, okay?"

He sighs as she walks along the wall, the safety off at the corner before the staircase. Passing her head, footsteps sounds in the kitchen grow louder, Lucifer's sigh back in her ear. "You may have doubts about rightfully blaming your concussion, but I don't."

Chloe frowns, hurt by his couldn't-give-a-damn attitude, he who had practically buried her beneath painkillers and bottled water yesterday for a simple, overly excessive, concern about her state of health. She shakes her head, walking down the first steps stealthily. "Lucifer, I'm not crazy, there's—"

"…-the Devil in the kitchen?" he finishes, his words echoing both in the phone and the last steps.

"Wha—"

Chloe lowers her gun pointed towards the Devil's face past the very last step and the cold wooden floor of the living room. "Lucifer?"

He smiles at her. "Detective?"

He answered back on the phone, so seriously.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she exclaims, still on the phone before rolling her eyes and hanging up.

Lucifer moves his in front of his puzzled face. "Sounds like I'm hanging up on me."

She squints. "Lucifer... why are you here? How-" She turns to the front door. "How did you get in? Why didn't you tell me you were here?"

Lucifer scoffs, his phone back inside his pocket. "Please, Detective... you forget who you're talking to. And I'd have gladly informed you about my presence if you hadn't imposed silence on me, again." One hand on the counter, the other on his waist after he's pulled his dark burgundy suit jacket away from his light gray shirt, he purses his lips with a grin— which makes her entire face flush before she even hears more. "I didn't know you had quite the fetish for silence. Well, in this case…." He removes his pocket square with a sigh. "I should be used to spoiling valuable clothing by now."

Handing it to her, he arches a quizzical eyebrow by seeing her shaking her head, no matter how painful her headache might be. The fiery shame is the sigh louder than the others, he raises both hands before putting the pocket square back in place, smoothing the fabric between his fingers uncountable times.

"Fine. We'll surely find a suitable gag in Maze's bedroom, but I'd recommend to sanitise whichever you'd choose before it goes into my m—"

"You could've knocked at the door!" she cuts him off, more crimson than his jacket.

"I would have if my hands weren't full of these." He waves to the brown paper bags all over the kitchen counter.

Chloe frowns. "How did you get in if you-..." Lucifer's look answers her plenty. She nods, lips pursed. "Right. I forget whom I'm talking to."

Where there are wings, there are no limits.

"Whom didn't forget your favorite coffee, though," he says, gently waving a paper cup from the coffee shop where she used to stop every morning before work, after dropping Trixie off at school.

She smiles, him more than he should after breaking into her place, after their last fight. This is just like him, acting the opposite of what one expects from him. Chloe looks down, her fingers squeezing the phone several times before placing it on the counter.

Out of control.

It can be a good thing...

She hates apologizing on phone, and with Lucifer, it deepens the solitude that would soon ensnare her. It brings back painful memories, stupid subterfuges for pretending less loneliness.

More strength she has in her.

"You really broke into my apartment in mid-afternoon to bring me coffee?" she asks him, internally screaming for her cowardice.

It's just a damnapology.

Her brows slightly draw together.

It's not just that.

Her fingers wrap around the base of the cup, a fleeting inferno beneath the smooth tepidness at the center of the lagging part, an unmatched fire towering above it all. Chloe would gladly cover his fingers with hers, a near-perfect cup that is barely shaping itself - her nails brushing his thumb and little finger.

That's when he lets her have full possession of the paper cup.

She looks up, surprised to not see his smile fading by an inch. Not even tense, like she thought he'll be after touching each other.

His dirty little joke, overjoyed tone on the phone, his still not fading smile while standing before her.

Nothing she had expected.

No pretense.

"This far advanced timing alone explains why I brought you drinkable help."

She arches an eyebrow, taking a first sip. The steaming scent rising to her nose and then invading her throat stops the thirsty inclination encouraged by Lucifer's words. Not fast enough to prevent half of the sip to flow in her mouth, down her throat soon after. The other half spat out in the cup, she grunts in disgust. She gags, trying to swallow then clear her throat from the strong, sickening scent — without success. "That's-... It's not... 'y favorite coffee… what's 'at?!"

Lucifer takes the cup from her hands, his puzzled expression burning the back of her neck in addition to the bile that flows back, almost faster than her stampede to the kitchen sink. She groans louder as she hears him recite the tiniest detail poured in her coffee, all accurate….

Except for one.

Wiping her mouth with her sleeve, Chloe turns back. "Cognac?"

He frowns. She notices how he's standing at a good, exaggerated distance from her and the sink, his hand pulling one of the bags until it is right in front of his shirt. Not that used to ruining his clothes for her, is he? Chloe is pretty sure she can't throw up that far, anyway.
She hiccups towards the dark and oddly mesmeric syphon, a lot.

"I should've chosen bourbon…" he whispers at her back.

"Oh no, pl-" Chloe's panting, eyes tight shut.

"Tequila?"

"None, Lucifer! Just... coffee. Simple. Coffee."

"But you prefer both."

"What?"

She turns around, pain pounding her temples as wildly as her previous panicked gestures have been. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes the moment she tastes bitterness down her throat. They open on Lucifer's worried face — closer, but still far enough away to have time to take cover.

"Both coffee and hair of the dog. For your hangover."

"A glass of water will do just fi—" Chloe frowns, even though it increases her headache. "Wait. H-How do you know for...?"

"Your post-unmatched drunk state?" he finishes.

She nods, pursing her lips afterwards. "You know it from Maze, don't you?"

He arches an eyebrow, slight tension freezing his features by hearing the demon's name. The detail that Chloe needs.

She crosses her arms over her chest, the soft fire of anger burning nausea and cramps in its wake. "Of course." Her glare back on Lucifer, she's even more annoyed by his presence, for what it means, for what it would never mean. "So that's why you came? To compare pictures and reality?"

She huffs. So Maze had indeed lost her patience, hadn't she?

"What's the point? Pretty sure you've watched 'Hot Tub High School'... what? A hundred times? More? You'd better check my boobs out on TV than your tiny phone screen!"

"I'd probably… be?"

The uncertainty in his voice soothes her annoyance. She stares at him, his amused yet surprisingly sweet smile blows up her next words and vendetta. Her mouth opens, his widening on words and face, now hilarious. "As for your stunning performance on screen, I've only watched it fifty-eight times."

"That's all?" she can't help but ask.

"Pleasure is all about frequency, Detective."

She clears her throat. Arms still crossed on her chest, she smooths down her sweater fabric, above the elbow. Her jaw muscles tighten around her words, "So... Maze, she... she didn't... send you anything?"

"If by 'anything', you don't include horned quadrupeds ordered in my name, I suppose not."

Her confusion deepens the line between her brows. Her mouth indulges in a smile while his twisted around these last syllables, sniffing in disdain. "Horned quadrupeds?"

He nods, so serious, annoyed by the odd delivery. "Sixty-nine goats."

She chokes her giggles by biting her bottom lip. "W-Why?"

"Good question. Probably because she thinks I'm an 'ass'? Or doesn't think much of mine? Can't tell."

It's hard for her not to notice how he insisted on the word, how his gaze twinkles, demonic annoyance already forgotten. The corner of his mouth twitches, a discreet muscular bending over whichever information he keeps for himself.

Chloe's mouth opens as she stares at Lucifer, who cocks his head. He walks from one edge of the counter to the other, his fingertips brushing them all this time.

His poker-face fades into nothingness the moment he's the closest to her, his lips stretching into a smirk. His eyebrows rise. "My my, Detective! My… devilishly sexy tongue hasn't paralyzed yours, has it?"

Chloe's heartbeats race so wildly fast in her chest that it could not just brush against her ribcage, but her crossed arms as well. A rush rises from her throat to her skin. Soft warmth at first, stifling fire all over her face soon after, annoyingly fast.

Oh, she has a bad feeling about this.

She swallows, scratches her cheek and looks away. "You..." she croakes, her tongue mostly paralyzed. "You didn't get... the picture."

"My mind is full of wonderful pictures! If that's what you mean?"

She nods, several times, her gaze fixed on her bare feet and his, shoes on. Big feet, big— "Good. Cool. And you know about yesterday because…."

She sees him move forward, one step.

"Because you called me quite early today?" He sounds as amused as she is mortified. "Not in detail, but yes."

"Oh God…" Chloe whines, closing her eyes.

She leans back against the sink, as far away from him and her blackout — fair result for unmatched plastered state since….

She shakes her head, pursing her lips on several locks of hair. "God."

Lucifer's sigh is closer. So close that it startles her.

"Wrong deity. Obviously. I'm more your type. Sexier."

She giggles and raises her chin, looking closely at his face, his eyes and devilishly sexy mouth. Hers curves into a smile. "Maybe."

"Obviously, Detective," he replies, pointing to the obvious, fromcollar to belt.

She's back giggling again.

"You're dying to tease me about it, aren't you?" she whispers, averting her gaze.

He chuckles. "My lowest body parts were rather dying to hear more." Frowning, he purses his lips. "I'd noticed your soft spot for me since we've met, but… dirty phone call? That's new." His laughter rolls in his throat while tilting his head. "Maybe because I'm never far, never too long? Oh, I wish I'd known!"

There, now, her gun is not that far away from her. She squints. Explaining to the Lieutenant another graze in the Devil's thigh wouldn't go as well as the first one. Moistening her lips, she turns back to the sink, forcing him to move. He steps back as she raises one arm towards the shelf and the first glass she spots.

"So that's indeed why you're here, isn't it?" she says while she turns on the tap, focused on the rising splashes of water in her glass. "Comparing phone calls and reality?" She turns around, water brushing her lips as she adds, "Or old memories?"

"Nothing as perverted. Besides, one of us really should keep things professional."

Chloe sniffs the sarcasm burning her mouth despite the cool water she has just drunk. The glass goes empty in a last long swallow, Lucifer searching for something in the pockets of his suit jacket.

"No, I forgot to give you this yesterday." He hands her a black notebook.

She places the glass beside the sink, her hands closing around the notebook. It is slightly larger than the ones she uses at crime scenes, with more pages in it. She opens it, flipping through a breeze of papers of handwritten contents with a puzzled expression. "What is it?" she asks, head lifting.

"Jessie Evans' diary." At her frown, he shrugs, his smile turning more shy. "I found it in her bedroom when-..."

His lips set in a hard, broken line. Chloe can only stare back at half of his feigned, although pleasant casualness. He clears his throat, his gaze lost somewhere between her forehead and anything possibly diverting in the room.

She'd never have thought that her pepper mill could be that interesting to watch.

He shoves his hands in his pants pockets. "Well... you know when."

The rustling of pages fills the silence, loud shut, even before checking its contents. She nods. If he has looked away, she definitely can't. She lowers hands and diary to her belly, tensed with cramps. She nearly gasps whichever syllables about to fill the silence when Lucifer claps it between his palms.

She looks puzzlingly at his tense, yet broad smile. "And I also thought a late breakfast would be nice. I'm sure you haven't eaten anything since-..." He swallows the words stuck in his throat before pulling one of the bags off the counter and pulling out three small boxes. "So! Chocolate, sweet, or iced donuts?"

"Lucifer…."

The boxes lower from an inch in his hands. "You prefer toast? No, hold on - Advil pills, am I correct?"

"I prefer to... apologize."

He stares at her and she places the notebook by the sink. She walks to the counter and rubs fingers together, taking a deep breath once she's facing him. Instantly, chocolate, sweet and frosting tickle her nostrils as her stomach cramps.

"I... I regret the way I treated you. Yesterday. At the station?" Chloe adds when his expression doesn't change. She raises her hands, joins them, keeps rubbing her fingers. Several nods, brief and wrapped with a fragile smile, precede her hoarse voice. Weak, too. Eager for more strength. "That's-... that's what I wanted to-..."

She brushes a lock of hair away from her face, clearing her throat before holding his gaze. Confused, surprised. Still hurt?

"I was calling you for that. Earlier. I mean... right now. I'm sorry, Lucifer."

"I know you are."

Chloe is surprised by his tone - neither hurt, confused nor surprised. Just...expressing the obvious. He smiles at her, genuinely.

"You already said so. This morning," he explains.

"Oh." She rubs her fingers together, nodding again. "Right. Okay, but... but I'm not sure it really counts given my… you know? So… I mean-... I can't even remember what I said."

Lucifer chuckles. "What you said stays nonetheless true, Detective. And repetitive. Although, I admit I didn't help. But that's behind us now! John's given me quite insightful heads up so as not to repeat past mistakes!"

"Repeat mis-... Who's John?"

He waves his hand, "An irrelevant detail. I'll explain everything tonight, don't worry."

Chloe's eyebrows raise. "Tonight? Why tonight?"

"Because our date is the perfect time to break new grounds for our partnership. Isn'it?" He wonders, slight concern sparkling in his eyes and lowering his voice.

She shakes her head. "No. Well, yes... of course it is. It had just... slipped my mind," she stutters, pointing to her temple.

"Hopefully, I think for two," he teases her.

She smiles, startling for both of them when somebody knocks on the front door. Dan's muffled voice follows the third knock. "Chloe? You're there?"

Lucifer voices his displeasure quite loudly, "And here comes the Detective who barely thinks for a tenth…."

"You need to go," Chloe whispers.

"Why whisper? He only hears for a tenth."

"I'm whispering because I don't want Dan to find you here. Go."

"But I brought donuts!" he complains over more impatient drumming.

Chloe sees a shadow growing through the window, fortunately still blinds-covered. She pushes Lucifer aside, into the blind spot between the kitchen and the living room, in the shadow of the gray brick wall. Her back against it, she ignores Lucifer's protests and keeps pulling on his suit jacket.

"Have your keys, honey?" Dan asks Trixie.

Chest to chest, Chloe whispers even lower. "Look, Dan doesn't want you around Trixie given the... circumstances and I don't... I don't wanna get into another fight with her in the middle, okay?"

"The circumstances?"

Chloe stares at him while arching an eyebrow. Lucifer rolls his eyes, sighing heavily. "I told you I could take things in hand!"

"Not now. Just… go, okay?"

He sighs again, his hands removing hers from his suit jacket. "Very well."

He takes a step back, tensing his back before freezing on the spot, his forehead furrowed. Chloe stares at him, glancing three times at the still shut front door in thirty seconds. "What now?" she hisses.

"Is your spawn fond of goats, by any chance?"

"What?"

"Think about it, it's a perfect pet. It's annoyingly noisy, it destroys as many possessions as any dog or cat would, if not more. And neither of these two can provide cheese!"

"Lucifer, this isn't the best t—" With the keys turning in the lock, she turns around.

"Chloe? Hello?"

"Shit! Lucifer, g—" She stares at the empty space in the living room, at the slightly moving curtains blown against the window. "…-o."

"Chloe, is that you?"

"Mom?"

"Living room." She steps aside, unblinking on the precise spot where Lucifer has just disappeared.

She treads on it, her bare feet buried in the edges of the carpet, two inches before the piles flattened beneath his shoes. It keeps surprising her. It's terrifying.

"Hey, didn't you hear us knocking li— Wow!" Dan winces as she turns to him.

His long, quiet awkward stare helps her remember what she looks like. Trixie passes her father, her backpack sliding effortlessly from her shoulders to the ground. Its dull sound pushes her daughter's giggles out of her mouth. "Whoa! Mom, you look like half a panda!"

Chloe chuckles, her shoulders slackening with her reaction. "Well, don't expect me to eat bamboo."

Dan twirls Trixie's keys around his index finger. "Looks more like you smacked a door, mh?"

She shakes her head. "That's... pretty accurate."

"How did it happen?"

Chloe's answer gets interrupted by Trixie. "What's all this?"

Dan's gaze follows Trixie's towards all the bags left in the kitchen.

"I-I haven't eaten anything in... a while, so…."

"So you robbed the nearest Starbucks?"

Chloe shakes her head, Trixie already too interested in the contents of every single bag to care about her mother's awkward explanations. "Not me, no. It's—"

At the fifth half-opened box, Trixie lets out a delighted exclamation, climbing onto the nearest stool to fully uncover the row of donuts inside. She takes the first one between two fingers, ready to spread chocolate and cream on them. "My favorites!"

"No sugar before dinner, Trix," Chloe says.

"But it's in several hours!" her daughter whimpers, yet leaving the donut in the box.

"You can have some for dessert, 'kay?"

Trixie sighs heavily, but closes the box. Chloe looks back at Dan, who seems amused by their daughter's pouting face. She smiles at him, rubbing her sleeve from elbow to wrist.

"Thanks for keeping her with you the other day. And yesterday. And for bringing her home from school," she adds after a short pause. "I'm... overworked."

Trixie scampers to the couch, hand already on the remote. Chloe lets her turn on the television with a sigh. She needs a break, too. One strength at a time. Turning back to Dan, she looks at him more closely instead of avoiding his gaze. She might look like half a panda, but he looks like the Dan... the Dan she hates to see. Deep dark rings under his eyes, not dark enough to hide a bit 'too much' red around not enough sleep.

The Dan after Charlotte's death. Right after.

She pinches the fabric of her sleeve, almost her wrist.

She hadn't even called him that night. Not even a text. All at once, his last voicemails make sense. He nods, rubbing his neck. "No problem. It was nice having her around longer, and I... understand. I'm pretty swamped myself with the ongoing case."

"Really? Anything new since then?"

"Sort of."

Chloe frowns and Dan shrugs. "I called Cox, for a warrant, after Francis' confession the other day. To conduct a search of his bedroom."

"Easy with his confession, right?"

Dan winces. "That's when the lawyer accused us of having pressured the kid to make false confessions while keeping him away."

"And by 'us', you mean…" Chloe mutters, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Us, Chloe. Homicide Department."

She nods, a weight off her chest, no offense to her posture. She purses her lips. "But we have footage from the garage, the missing check, his presence at the crime scene."

"All circumstantial evidence."

"Fuck that," Chloe groans.

"Swear jar!" Trixie cries from the couch.

Chloe and Dan smile, Dan shaking his head afterwards. "I was hoping to find the vial in his bedroom, but... the judge won't allow it with so little."

"You should've told me, I could have asked-..."

Her mouth circles Dan's reluctance to ask for Lucifer's help.

Right. She can't blame him, even after their last fight.

Lucifer's actions - which she'd encouraged from start to end - had led them into a dead end, not just for the case. Now they will have to deal with serious accusations against their department, not quite cleared of from Pierce's shadow.

The Lieutenant is gonna love the new publicity.

Dammit.

"Got it." She clears her throat. "I'll-... I'll go meet the Lieutenant. I mean... if you want me to-..."

"Yeah, sure. But…."

"Just me?" Chloe guesses with a smile.

Dan shakes his head so fast that words would have been superfluous to the lie he is moving from side to side. "That's not what I was about to say…."

"But that's what you think, anyway."

"What I think doesn't matter as long as the Lieutenant is fine with it," he replies, mincing most words between his clenched teeth.

Chloe nods, smiling at him. "I'll do my best. Trust me."

"Cool. Okay, then. I'll-..." His eyes briefly stop at the top of Trixie's head, entirely focused on SpongeBob's adventures. He then looks at the boxes piled up in the kitchen, gazing at Chloe lastly.

Her smile widens. She moves her chin towards the counter. "Wanna take some?"

"No, I should go home. I mean…." He waves at the whole living room, then the kitchen, swallowing. "'Don't wanna intrude, busy as you are."

Chloe rolls her eyes. "Dan... relax. Lucifer won't be back for a while."

As soon as she finishes her sentence, Trixie turns around, hands on the back of the couch and shoes on the cushions, eyes wide. "Lucifer was here?!"

"Trix'... shoes!" she scolds her, rubbing her temple.

"Why did he leave? I'll ask him!" She sits back, phone out of her blue cardigan.

Chloe sighs heavily and turns back to Dan, as tense as before. If not more. "I'm sorry," she whispers, not willing to be heard by Trixie again. "I didn't mean to hide it from you, I was just afraid that—"

"That I would make a scene?" Dan finishes.

She nods.

He sighs as well, his gaze back on Trixie. "Don't be sorry. The other day… I've gone too far. I'm just-... I just don't wanna see Trixie disappointed again, to bring her into all... this."

"I feel the same. That's why I asked Lucifer to leave. Not just to avoid a scene, I…." He frowns and she exhales loudly, her fingers back rubbing her forehead by the time she opens her eyes. "You're right."

She isn't taking offense at his surprised expression. Almost joyful, somehow. She lowers her hand, blowing the weight of the secret between her ribs, although not moving it from an inch.

"What's going on, what happened with Lucifer… It's been hard for me to admit it, but... It's too complicated. Too much. You're right, you deserve answers. And Trixie shouldn't be put in the middle of this mess."

She nods, several times. Several pumping motions for rare strength, wherever she could find it. Still, it's not enough to tell him everything now. She's not at her best for this.
Not today.

"You'll get answers. Real ones, no more secrets. Later."

"Later?"

Lips sealed, she folds and unfolds her hands in the second, eventually crossing her arms over her chest. Rising fear starts burning her bare feet and she shifts her position. "After the case?" she suggests, her voice faltering beneath her strong headache, her short night and—

Would she really have to explain severe hangover side effects to the man who had long shared binge drinking, as more sober, gentler times by her side? More real. With no secrets.

He keeps staring at her. An eternity could have passed.

"He's not in the mob, is he?"

Chloe's forehead furrows, lost in her thoughts thus far. "Hm? Mob? Lucifer?"

"Well, yeah!" he exclaims. "He has contacts with the Chinese mob! And Maze…." Something dark crosses his gaze.

First quiet, Chloe isn't long to burst into laughter.

He flinches, annoyed. "What? You weren't there! Maze knocked out a freaking giant! Barehanded!"

You weren't there with freaking zombies everywhere...

Chloe shakes her head, still giggling. "Sounds like Maze." She wipes out a tear from her left eye, wincing when she inadvertently brushes her wound. "No, it's just that…." She swallows another impending wave of giggles, still shaking her head. "Imagining Lucifer speaking like the godfather, it's-..."

"He speaks 'everything', you know?" Dan's mouth twitches. "That's what he says."

"I know. No mob, though."

"Sure?" he insists, sounding disappointed.

"As sure as Ella about your sweetcheeks."

Dan's eyes widen, his complexion one level below standards. When he opens his mouth, Chloe gives him a little punch on the shoulder with the back of her hand, answering his yet-not-aloud-about-to-be-stammered question. "Overdrunk confessions after work."

He swallows, looking at her cautiously.

She tilts her head with a grin. "You can be proud! Yours is almost tied with Lucifer's."

Looking away, his thumb brushes his forehead. "Can't tell if I like the comparison."

She chuckles. "Something tells me he wouldn't like it either."

"Yeah," Dan grunts, though genuinely smiling for the first time in ten minutes. One more and he agrees to at least spare her another headache. "It better be cooler than the mob."

"Way cooler," she reassures him.

Trixie giggles rise from the couch, both turning to her.

"Did SpongeBob hit a customer again?"

Chloe smiles. "You know how he is... either rough or soaked."

He smiles back and they both watch Trixie jumping off her favorite spot for TV-time, phone in hand. "It's Lucifer, he texted me back! Look, it's so funny!" She shows her phone to her father first, then her mother who covers her mouth with her hand, eyes wide.

As for Dan, his smile has been real quick to fade. "Way cooler… it's not enough."

There aren't enough words in Chloe's mind to explain this. Although, on second thought, a GIF cat spanking another's butt on her daughter's phone… it speaks for itself.


AN

Hope you liked this all new chap :) As for the next one, I can't tell exactly when it'll be updated. As soon as I can. It's just a real big one to write (probably gonna be twice longer than this one), such an important one and expected for a real long time, isn't it?

I'm also busy writing another project - can slow down things here.

Anyway, I'll provide snippets whenever I can on twitter ( bebec_rebecca) in the meantime :)

Again, a big thank you for reading and commenting (always highly appreciated)

Aaaaand now the game for next chapter!

"B****al* is an ***, *loo** a*ge*** ****g"