Happy Valentine's Day!

I waited for this day for so long - well, these last two weeks seemed SO LONG to me (because of reasons, a surprise in the end's notes that I was more than eager to share in addition to this chapter's contents).

I truly hope that you'll have a great reading experience with it and a great Valentine's Day as well (in couple or single, we don't care — it's 'love' day, for you, for anyone, for everyone, for our deckerstar here ^^)

See ya at the end!

Music :

Caught in the fire - Klergy

(and a big thanks to Kathleen for the beta check)


THE DEVIL-ME

20


Everything revolves around the table.

And everything: the table, the chair she is sitting in, how the tablecloth undulates under her fingers and how the cutlery clink a bit whenever she pulls too hard; everything changes the vibrancy of the moment.

It changed the fire within her into fragile, ice crystals, those crushed with her rocking softly on her seat. Lucifer taking his place on the other side didn't help her either.

His smile looked supportive. It still does, although now he is looking at her intensely. Like if the needed signal for speaking again is somehow hidden in her gaze. In this regard, should she finish drinking her glass of champagne or ask for another one? He finished his minutes ago and has since started drinking a grand cru while waiting for their starters— both planned and chosen in advance by "Mr. Morningstar, Ma'am".

And despite everything, he keeps staring at her expectantly.

Not taking a sip like he is, she turns the champagne glass on the white tablecloth, first to the left, then back. Minutes ago, they were drinking to his unexpected romanticism. Now, what is left of their date seems to be no longer his responsibility.

Well, he started with the basics, didn't he?

Anyway, if what follows could only be awkward glances, throat clearings or tense smiles, she will do whatever she can to change that.

Both alone in a 'booked room' and with the sounds of conversation that keep rising to their right, the silence fills the space twice more and its vibrancy only starts to change with Chloe's last, yet not discreet throat clearing. "So… Now that we— What were you talking about at my place?" He doesn't understand and she adds, "The heads up? You know, from… 'John'? I'm curious."

"Right, that. As said earlier, John had quite insightful advice about us."

"And who's John?"

"A complete stranger, why?"

"Well, because I doubt that a 'complete stranger' has anything relevant to say about us, or about you being… you," she replies, although Lucifer's expression doesn't change. He looks more puzzled, actually.

"Linda's advice had always been relevant, Detective, way before the 'Devil-me' revelation."

"She was your therapist."

"She is, but what does it have to do with John?"

Of course, he wouldn't understand how irrelevant and inappropriate taking a complete stranger's advice about their relationship could be. Not insisting, she watches him pour wine in her glass, the flame of the candle reflected on its stem.

"So… John gave you insightful advice. I wasn't aware that we were in need of any."

"I was thinking the same. But…" He looks at her eyelid. She had tried to cover her black eye with make-up, but the nick through her brow couldn't be hidden. "He…he helped me realize a few past mistakes."

She frowns. "Mistakes?"

"The topics we've been talking about lately." To her visible confusion, he smiles. "Well, it's rather one topic. A 'hell' of a topic."

"Hell? That's what's bothering you?"

"Well, sort of, as it pertains to our spoken strategy."

Lucifer continues explaining his way of thinking, but Chloe is barely listening. She shakes her head, his previous words being played on an endless loop in her mind. Does he really want to stop talking about Hell? Or was it just with her?

Powerless.

"—m well aware that I've encouraged you. Mostly because Hell and I are hardly dissociable!" Clearly, his joke fails at lightening their mood, his first of all, which he tries to hide with a smile. It nevertheless unveils how vulnerable he must feel. "However, I— It's not a fatality. We don't have to talk about something different, but maybe we could try a more… positive approach? There are so many things you still don't know about me, obviously. Hilarious things, for the most part! Did I tell you about that time when hellhounds ran after Amenadiel's tight-ass? That was so nice of Maze, a 'hell'-birthday present, of sorts."

"Lucifer… you know I'm not afraid of you, don't you?"

He sits up, his smile faltering in front of Chloe's concerned gaze.

Reaching for her hand around the glass, he squeezes it and draws a slow path from each of her finger joints with his thumb. "Of course, Detective," he says, his expression softened. "And you shouldn't be afraid of Hell either."

"I'm no—"

Their waiter chooses this moment to show up, thus putting a stop to 'their moment'. "Pops tamales."

Her hand sliding back to her knees, Chloe has not much interest in the composition of the plate. Lucifer's sociable face is all a show with the waiter, but he has played it so often for so long in his life. Even she could fall for it if she wouldn't have been staring at the slight tension squeezing his jaw, at this little something in his eyes, something 'off', out of reach. She could have fallen for it if she wouldn't have been listening.

One simple breathing can change the nature of silence.

It can change its explosion between his lips. "That looks delicious!"

"I'm not afraid of Hell."

Finally, he looks away from the plate, the fork turned twice in his hand. "Still, your interest in it is mostly for the wrong reasons, but that's on me. Mostly. My answers didn't help, that's a certainty. I should have encouraged you to see things differently."

"Like you, you mean?"

She hadn't missed the 'perception' topic. A night free of it would have been a blessing.

"Quite the contrary," he sighs. "Denying the topic hadn't helped either. I-I'd wish I could turn our conversations into something more positive, especially for those about Hell." He shrugs a shoulder. "This is basic, isn't it? Getting to know each other around a date? There are still so many things you don't know about me or my life here. Did I ever tell you about Amenadiel's first time on screen, back when I had visited Los Angeles six years ago? Well, 'nearly' first time. Misty Canyons and he hadn't had the same necklace in mind."

Lucifer sits up, realizing the obvious. "Nor did she have interest in mine. Well, she did as any woman and we weren't partners. Yet. I—"

"Maybe we could find better basics than your brother and his… private performances." Chloe proposes, taking a bite of tamales.

"Jumping the gun, am I?"

She gives him a warning glare. His grin even wider, he takes a sip of red wine. "How about you choose, then?"

"An all new conversation topic? Are you sure I'm not too negative for that?"

"You surely are the only person I know who can bring light into darkness. And as for darkness, I will keep mine at bay for once. Now," he encourages her. "What do you truly desire to know about the great Lucifer Morningstar, mh?"

What does she desire to know about him? Well, it always comes to this place: Hell. She instantly feels guilty, to first think of the place rather than of him as a person to get to know better. Worse, it proves his point; she is haunted by Hell.

How does it work? How do hell loops, demons work together? How is it, how does it feel to be the King of Hell, the Devil? How can she be a partner in this? How can they talk about what truly matters by avoiding this topic?

These questions, Chloe's lips crush them with a slight gulp, a whole bunch of others burning the inside of her throat.

Do you see a way for this long-dazzingly-long distance relationship to work?

How could I know if you'll ever need my help down there, if your life is in real danger?

What do you want from me? From us?

Those are anything but basic topics to question him about. And the questions get even worse by thinking far away from the Hell-topic itself.

Did you even think about me, about what I want, before making this deal with God?

How can your family keep flying their shit in Heaven after everything they've done to you? Or what they haven't done for you!

What have they been doing up there since the beginning of time?!

Sitting at this table, the buzzing of other customers' chatter, cutlery clinking and chewing sounds never crossing the line of their privacy, Chloe can almost believe in something more positive. It's a lovely evening, a lovely table and good company.

Almost.

Everything she desires to know could be written in a long list, a real long list.

Chloe plays with her napkin on her thighs, trying her best to stop the list right there, where she could still pick a simple, harmless uncertainty for both Lucifer's efforts and hers about leaving the bad behind. There are many other things left that she keeps ignoring, aside from these biblical aspects of his life, things only related to the very human Lucifer Morningstar who had decided to open a nightclub in Los Angeles one day. She got to know the most obvious ones, and so did most of the human world. Like how much he loves to party. Drinking alcohol, too (not for the sensation, but for its taste). He loves drugs, any drugs and his sexual experience couldn't go unnoticed for long either. He hadn't minded a "trip to pound town if he must" with Linda, the first time they worked together.

Oh, and he hates hugs from kids apart from Trixie's, paperwork, goats and rules in general.

Thinking this long about him, about his whole persona, it is like coming back years ago, when she was investigating him rather than with him. Their very first talk is crystal clear in her mind, like it would have just happened.

"Lucifer Morningstar… is that a stage or something?"

"God-given, I'm afraid."

The edge of the napkin falls back on her thighs.

Not that much given by God.

Chloe's smile is almost immediate as their eyes meet. "There is something I'd like to know, something for which I've done… research. Something outside the 'h'-limits. I think it is, but—"

Hell has turned into a no man's land so fast that it looks like a weird, dark version of the 'yes or no game'. A dark version, indeed.

Lucifer arches an eyebrow. "You're usually more into questioning than hesitation."

"Usually, I'm questioning suspects." Her lips get dry under his gaze, her next words nearly ashes in her mouth. Lucifer's trusting expression doesn't change once, not even when she empties her glass of wine and chokes a bit on its fruity bouquet. "I want to question who you are."

"Who I am?" he repeats. "I thought it was obvious."

"Not for… everyone. I mean, not for me, I-I know that you're… you, obviously."

"I still haven't heard a question, Detective." Lucifer's smile brings her back to the most important, the basics.

She gives him a quick nod. Right. Question. "Why does your current name sound more angelic than… well, your angel name?"

"My angel name?"

Chloe instantly feels the need to explain herself. "Maybe it's all fake. So many books — every book — they describe you as an evil, destructive being, but your dad… God, He…" She shakes her head. "There is no way He gave you a name so—! Samael, the Poison of God, this is just another biased perception, isn't it?"

Her chin lowers with the weight of her annoyance. She feels stupid, again, for falling for human nonsense. Again. Both feelings grow stronger as she predicts Lucifer's reaction to it: as prompt as ever to demolish the few certainties she was convinced to have. However, after no less than ten fork assaults on her cornbread, his tactful guidance hasn't reached her ears yet. That is why she looked up from her plate first. Not just for a quick estimation of how strong she should throw the cornbread to hit his smug face.

What she has already eaten falls and hits the pit of her stomach, like a massive granite block. Lucifer looks as such right now: a stone block, although his face is as white as marble can be. A memorial of tension, yet ready to crumble against Chloe's touch, with her next words. "It-it's true, then? Sama—"

"Don't." The shiver under his sleeve is anything but discreet. Unclenching his fist, his smile looks about to crumble to dust as well. "Don't call me that. Please."

"Okay." She reaches for his hands without hesitation, his slight flinch punching her gut even harder before they intertwine together. "Okay. I'm sorry, I— I warned you, though!"

Her pitiful attempt to lighten the mood isn't a waste as he chuckles, a bit. His skin no longer feels like stone beneath her hand. He even takes the lead of the next strokes, although it feels more like a reflex than the expression of his present feelings; far, excruciatingly far from serenity.

"I've had worse conversations."

This doesn't reassure her, no more than his still charming smile. But she pretends it does. "We can find something else. Anything else."

Lucifer shakes his head, not letting go of her hand, not looking anywhere else. After a slight frown and a last stroke around her wrist, he looks at her. "Why would we?"

Why wouldn't they?

Lucifer shrugs, pretending too well not to care, so well that she nearly falls for it. "It's just a name. We can talk about its meaning and…" He pinches his lips. "… see where it goes. T-This is perfect."

"But this isn't what you wanted, Lucifer. I didn't want to—" She sighs and he covers her hand with his.

"Nobody's first time is perfect, or so I've heard," he reassures her. "Besides, talking about each other's life is part of the basics, isn't it?"

"I guess, but—"

"You were right, about its meaning. The… 'books' got it wrong."

"How so?" Chloe can't help but ask.

To hell with her scruples. He is goddamned obstinate, anyway. This name, his name, feels twice heavier to hold between them, but who cares.

"Well, they didn't get it all wrong. It has something to do with my dad, so had most of my siblings' names. Amenadiel, Azrael, Gabriel…."

"El meaning… God, right?" She glares at the ceiling. "Sounds 'nice'."

"You understand now why I've changed my name as—" he pauses. "…as soon as I could."

"A clean break with him?"

"We could say that. I didn't fall that cleanly through half of the universe, though."

Chloe stares back at him, speechless.

Half of the universe? How far is Hell from Heaven, then? She feels her stomach twist around the thought, the picture of him falling for an inconceivable time; stars, galaxies of them, being the only witnesses. How can he even stand it, to be here and explain some long-forgotten names? Nobody would put himself through this, through such bad memories, only to prove to her that he can be positive. That they can have a peaceful date.

Her throat feels dry.

"My actual name – Lucifer – it has nothing and everything to do with him," he continues.

"That's because it—" She pauses, long enough to hear a plate splash on the floor on the other side of the room. Ironically, their gaze chose this very sound to meet. It also feels like a warning about what might happen to him if she pushes her curiosity further: his walls being reduced to ashes. "—because it means the 'Lightbringer'?" she whispers nonetheless.

Lucifer's chest rises along a deep breath. As for Chloe, her fingers twitch on the napkin, eager to touch him, but his shifting eyes prevent her from making any movements. New walls made of silence and burning tension arise between them.

It must be so. What else can it be? His slight frown isn't for breadcrumbs on his sleeve, nor that the rest of his face has turned inscrutable – yet staring at her with a few blinks only – because the wine goes down the wrong way. Of wine, he drinks what is left of it in his glass, as unblinking as before. "We'd better start with the other name."

"Oh, well…" Chloe stutters, taken aback by the sudden, sharp intonation in his voice. "I-... sure."

It sounded like an order. She knows that he would never impose anything on her (aside from a divine deal in Hell, she recalls bitterly). It sounded like it, anyway. Beneath the apparent quietude of his demeanor lies an impatient intent to get whatever he wants without questioning. Straight consent to his demand.

She heard this tone so many times. As a newbie in the LAPD and even before that, from her dad. She has the same tone with Trixie, when she is being difficult.

She isn't pleased to hear it now, from him. Especially from him.

"The last part of the name emphasizes the fact that I belonged to my Dad, but the first two syllables – Sama – explain to what extent."

Still here, more authoritarian even, Chloe does her best not to focus on his voice, the worst pushing her curiosity just ahead his walls. "The poison."

Shaking his head, Lucifer's slightly patronizing smile hurts her pride, even though she knows it is targeting a global human perception rather than hers. "See, that's where books mix up things. My former job with the actual one, to be precise."

"You really had a job up there?"

"Is that so surprising?"

"Well, it was… it is your family," she quickly corrects herself. "Not some… impersonal company. This doesn't sound like 'family' positive memories."

"My family was like no other, so this may explain that."

His use of the past tense is hard to ignore. Chloe looks down at his hands. He is squeezing them so hard together that it is difficult to define which is the right or the left one. His Adam's apple carries his next slow breath out of his lungs.

She averts her gaze, pointing her fork towards what is left of her starters and exclaiming, "This is… this is so good!"

It is, though not good enough to make her smile last on her face. But she must have been quite convincing because Lucifer is back focusing on her again, his thoughts seconds away from whatever had poisoned his mind before.

"Far more good than your 'precinct' fast-to-throw-up food, isn't it?"

"You have no idea," she approves after removing remains of sauce at the corner of her mouth with one finger.

Chuckling at this, Lucifer takes several bites as well, putting the topic on hold. He won't stop here, but he won't carry on the conversation on his own either.

Holding back a sigh, Chloe wonders why he doesn't let go. "So… what was the job?"

"No human language can actually translate its goal. Hebrew wasn't that terrible at trying, though. Anyway, the consonances of our…of angelic language is out of reach for your lovely ears, I'm afraid. Which invariably leads to misinterpretations about me."

"But how would it sound like if you'd try anyway?"

"Well, from Hebraic source… 'the left hand'. Or 'mantle'." His smile turns wider, both of his hands rising from the table. "Not that I only use one for my main, most pleasant pastime."

"I bet it has nothing to do with them."

His "Do you, now?" echoes loudly in his rising eyebrows.

She stares back at him just the same.

Prove me wrong.

"It does and it doesn't," he says. "The meaning is obviously symbolic, but I did use my actual hands for this task."

Chloe's back welcomes the comfortable, straight support of her chair as she pinches her lips, both amused and intrigued by the true meaning of this spurned name. "God's hand, uh? Sounds imposing."

"God's left hand," he corrects her.

"Does it matter?"

"Not to me, but Michael would definitely cringe."

"Michael?"

"As I was the left hand, he was the right one." Lucifer tilts his head to one side. "He is the right one. 'God's hand' sounds better by far. There's not much to fear from an… one-armed divinity, is there?"

The picture of God to whom a hand is missing wouldn't leave her mind. Even less so now that she imagines Him as a much more imposing version of Captain Hook, up there in the middle of billions of stars or… or supernova or anything visible from the whole universe in Heaven. Lucifer as Peter Pan is an even more troubling thought, as it might be the closest analogy to who he is: a non-aging child who would never truly submit to the man – the God – in charge here.

"That's one translation. And the other one would be… 'God's mantle'?" she asks then, both disturbed by Lucifer's changing behavior and her previous thoughts.

He never pronounced his brother's name like this, with such… sadness in his voice? Even when they had talked about Michael's role of taking his place in Hell, Lucifer had always referred to him with disdainful intonations.

His sadness is like a scorching hot, sharp knife between her ribs. Something she is not strong enough to bear on her own. She can only push the main topic back on its tracks.

Lucifer nods. "Correct. Although both designations refer to the job I once had, the 'mantle' focuses more on what the job consisted of than its title. A really 'handy' metaphor, as you know now."

"So what? You were providing mantles in heaven or something? It's that cold up there?" she teases him.

"Far from it," he replies as seriously as before. "It means that I was adding the final details to God's right hand."

"And will you ever tell me what God's right hand's job was or will I have to beg for it?"

Given how his whole 'too-serious' expression relaxes for a bit, she knows that he is tempted, curious even, about how she would beg for the information. She expects a joke or two about her handcuffs or anything else salacious enough from him, at any minute now.

But he does none of that.

"That thirsty, uh?" she inquires when he leans the bottle and fills his glass with a lot, really a lot of wine.

"Javier keeps his best bottles for us. We can be as thirsty as we want," he reassures her.

Chloe is still ignoring many things, but if he could bleed near her like anyone else would, he could get as drunk as anyone else, too. He points at his glass, the crimson curve of forthcoming drunkenness still swinging inside. "My job."

"Excuse me?" she says, and to that, he points at the glass again; more specifically its base.

"Right hand." Taking the glass in hand, he looks down at the wine. "Left hand."

He takes several, big sips before placing the glass back on the table. Through all these common movements, Chloe has watched his face turning back into stone: cold and distant. The lump in her throat swells further more.

"Angels have been conceived, each for one single, unique job. Therefore, they've all been gifted with an ability as unique. Anyhow, sometimes-... well, just for my brother and I, actually. The very first exception that had proved the rule, I guess." His pretense of 'not-caring' attitude splits as soon as their eyes meet. He swallows, carrying on, "It was different for us both. So it has been, for as long as I can remember, before— We… we were as one. One single ability. One single job."

"And what are your other siblings' jobs?"

Lucifer's smile apparition is brief, but the warm feeling rising from her belly is not. It will last, for as long as the gleam within his eyes would.

"Quite simple, in comparison. Control over time for Amenadiel, or over long-range, celestial calls for Gabriel; they always had much more free time than we ever did, Michael and I. The simplest for the dumbest minds!"

Chloe chokes on wine and disbelief, Lucifer's right eyebrow lifted in amusement. Once her hiccups cease, she forces syllables out of her sore throat, "Should I even ask for t-the… most c-complicated jobs?!"

"Molding planets and the various species on Earth, I assure you."

Her hand falls back on her knees, her napkin falling the same way to her feet, under the table. "You… Y-You created the planets?"

"Not really. I just helped to shape their main substance, as for anything in this universe. That's where the word 'mantle' comes from – quite rough for the fine details of my contribution, you'll agree."

As one gigantic wave, the shock, the realization of what he is truly capable of submerges her. She finds herself unable to look away from his hands, his thumb in movement on the edge of the glass pushing thoughts – the first rational ones, it seems – to the forefront of her mind.

You know who he is, who he truly is.

The devil, fallen angel.

What did you expect? He wasn't playing monopoly with demons in Hell and Heaven was—

The truth is that she never had thought of his life in Heaven before that moment, never for long at least. The devil in him had always occupied her mind as one single truth and if she had ever thought about the angel, she had always done so as a part of his life that was over once and for all. As the cutest part of his character, not as something that—

That powerful.

He can hold so much more in these hands. There is more than flesh and blood, than the devil. More than her partner. So much more. How can she deal with this? The curve of the glass against his palm changes. She stares dazzlingly at the glass, a globe now: thick, perfect for life, for all sorts of life.

Earth must have looked so… insignificant between these hands.

Lucifer's hands.

The lump in her throat blocks the air rising from her lungs, which swirls wildly around her fast-beating heart. Her chest is rising, though. It's falling on nothing more than—

Void.

The lace in her back pecks her skin, every time she tries to take a deep, steady breath. Everything starts spinning in her mind; breathless thoughts, whichever word that Lucifer is saying to her right now. In the middle of the storm, Her eyes catch the waiter's silhouette near Lucifer and she holds on to this 'human', random presence so as not to let her be crushed by her thoughts. These are swirling as fast as a train in her mind, to such an extent that she only hears half of the waiter's question. Something about 'wine'. Maybe. Lucifer's answer to it is no more than thumping sounds squishing her temples.

She is human, as Lucifer looks here, with her. With her, he is… he is him. Her Lucifer, as he had always been in her company.

"—ctive?"

That is her. He is talking to her, frowning after one of her deep, long breath, which squeezes her throat tightly shut to unwelcomed sobs. She gives him a short nod. He looks worried; he never looks as worried for anyone else other than her; he only looks at her that way to define the source of whichever disturbance she has been displeased by. He will always touch her like he is right now, just because it feels like the only way to heal her. Hesitant, yet determined to do everything, absolutely everything, for her. Eyes shut, she holds onto his touch, his thumb in the middle of her wrist, stroking it down to her slightly trembling ring finger.

Devil. Angel. God's Left Hand and… and he's still unable to stay more than four months.

This isn't the same.

It should.

It shouldn't be.

"—u don't like the wine?"

In the middle of another slow inhalation, Chloe's chuckles cut it midway. She shakes her hand, eyes back open on Lucifer and his hand, still around this damn glass of wine, damn metaphor of his former, angelic job.

"N-no," she croaks.

"Really? It's a Chatea—"

"No, I mean… yes, the wine is… it's fine."

"The starters, then?" He leans towards her plate, inspecting it more closely, and seems displeased as she has only eaten half of it, for whatever it must mean to him.

She smiles at him, for the first time since the big revelation. "Everything's perfect. It's just that…." Her gaze stops at the glass. She releases her hand from his, preferring her fork to his touch. "This isn't what I had in mind. About your name."

The base of the fork might cut her palm if she ever holds it tighter.

"A-And the other one, the… the 'Poison of God'-thing?"

She could have dealt with this better, in a less awkward, sharp way. She regrets it the moment Lucifer flinches on his side of the table.

"Actually, I don't know where, or from whom it came. Not in detail." he says, distant again.

She looks up to only see him averting his gaze.

"Blame the fall," he adds lower.

"Oh, so… Your father, He wasn't behind—?"

"He certainly is, but as for the bloody 'why' part of this…." The smile crossing his face is weak, the weakest she has seen since the start of this positive talk. "I only know from whose twisted mouth I heard it the first time."

"From whom?"

"My brother, Michael. The first time he came after—" He pinches his lips, his fingers dancing a quick fall around the glass.

He could have squeezed the Earth just as tight. Chloe shivers at the thought.

"It wasn't really something we can call a… friendly visit, you see. So, I-I— Maybe he just… made the whole bloody thing up? He said so many things…. I don't think he was lying, though, about this… nickname. And from that moment, it just… Well." The corner of his lips lift. "It spread through its worst interpretation in books."

"Why… Why did your dad let that happen? It's—" Chloe shakes her head.

Lucifer shrugs, both shoulders as heavy as rocks. "God lets names spread in mysterious ways. Was it supposed to make me realize how imperfect I've always been to him, unlike him, unlike my brothers? That I'm only good at punishing the bad, because I'm—" He looks away from her, but she does catch the almost tear circling the rage in his eyes.

"Perfect? Don't make me laugh! Whoever thought one day that the platypus could be a serious thing is far from being perfect!" she exclaims, her rage for the Almighty burning even harder in her voice.

Lucifer's surprise reflects Chloe's. Did she just….

She gazes at the ceiling, uneased. Insulting God, the one who allowed Lucifer to come back for a while; it wasn't the best idea she had had. The worst of all, in fact.

Instead of being stricken by God's wrath, the unbreathable tension cracks open with a loud laugh. Lowering her chin, she stares at Lucifer, laughing so much that he has trouble breathing and tears in his eyes.

"Oh, He's imagined more imperfect quadrupeds than those poor souls!" he eventually manages to say, pulling on his shirt collar.

"Mmh… I doubt He has," Chloe replies, smiling at him.

"Ask the mammoths."

She pinches her lips. "They didn't seem as dumb-looking as the platypus."

"You never saw them charge at us flying," Lucifer replies, his lips pinched so as not to burst out laughing before proving his point.

Chloe would listen to him prove anything, his smile far from any sorts of imperfection. It could spread way past his face. It is rekindling her inner flames, melting her apprehension along each new word, chuckle or change in his expression, always towards something more positive.

They can be more.

They truly can.

-xXx-


It is both a pleasant and brutal sensation, to feel the cold breeze rushing through the open door, to feel it slapping against her clammy skin. The atmosphere inside is starting to be stifling, safe from any outside intrusions. It also means that their date is coming to an end.

Pleasant, brutal feelings.

"You've done a fantastic job with this place, Junior!"

"If I didn't know you, Lucifer, I'd say it's your doing, not mine."

Chloe turns away, saving her upper chest from any additional 'slapping' breeze, and watches both Lucifer and their host shake hands in the middle of the hall.

Lucifer is right. The magical atmosphere of this place can't be matched anywhere else; all Junior's doing. She refrains herself from congratulating their host as well, though. There is plenty of magic in here without hearing Lucifer's self-praise about his own. And, to be fair, part of her pleasant experience – most of it – is Lucifer's doing alone.

His magic doesn't act the same as Junior's.

It actually makes her shiver even more.

"Are you cold?" Lucifer notices, already taking his suit jacket off.

"It's cooler than I expected. I should've known…."

"I can ask Marco to park your car at the entrance," Junior says. "So you won't have to walk to the end of the block."

"Lovely," Lucifer approves.

"No. I… I don't mind walking a bit."

Lucifer frowns. "But you're cold."

"And I drank too much," she explains with a smile, slightly embarrassed. "Walking sounds nice."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Thank you so much, Junior; I've had a wonderful time." She kisses his cheek, Lucifer's complaints filling the short silence as quickly as ever.

"Just him, really?"

Stepping back, Chloe rolls her eyes and loses her balance for a second, although quickly stabilized by Lucifer's 'never too far from her' strong presence. With her weighing against his side, he quietly accepts another eye rolling for his suit jacket weighing on her shoulders.

"You're perfect for each other," Junior says, giving back Lucifer's car keys.

Chloe's cheeks turn more pink. She pulls on the fabric of the jacket around her shoulders. "Thanks. Thanks," she repeats for Lucifer, to which his hand replies with a firmer, yet as gentle pull on her hip.

"The pleasure is all mine, Detective."

If he would press harder, her dress would lift up an inch or so, without anyone noticing. She would. He would, too. An inch more to turn cool breeze into raging flames.

He shakes Javier's hand one last time, but Chloe is barely listening to whatever they might be saying to each other. Her attention is at Lucifer's mercy, at his hand that keeps moving the fabric against her skin, at the mercy of the warmth of his arm in her lower back.

Brutal, quick flames.

As they walk down the stairs and then towards the Corvette parked in the street, Lucifer's heart seems to beat faster against her ear. Or her heart is beating fast to reach his, or maybe she's just imagining all this because she feels nervous all of a sudden.

"Truly, Lucifer," she says again, not so far from the car now. "It was perfect."

"Glad to hear that the surprise matched your expectations."

"Lucifer…" She joins their hands together, his steps slowing down. "It really was."

Her fingers rise from his palm to his wrist, his chin lowered to hers, rising. An imperfect angle, awkward even, but his lips against hers feel incredible. Soon, his chuckle tickles the tip of her nose. "So I've called myself."

Chuckling in turn, she pinches his wrist, glad to see him wince a bit. But her smile disappears within seconds, with the thought of something she had nearly forgotten.

Her lips away from his, she swallows. "Before we go, there's something I need to talk to you about. I…."

He frowns, his hand sliding from hers. He turns around to face her growing hesitation, too far from her touch. "I-I'd like to—"

The flames within her turn real, their explosion sweltering Lucifer and, in an even shorter instant, her next words as well.


Notes:

This damn angelic name made me do L-O-T-S of the etymology of it through different language and history, but I surely don't regret it as it gave much more interesting dialogues and plot-ideas X)

And you will learn more about the meaning of 'Lightbringer' in the next chapter as well.

Thanks for reading & I'm always happy to have reviews about your reading-experience ofc :3

(Next chap is 10k long, but I'm working on its translation!)