A Firm Grip

The scent of citrus wafting up from a freshly steaming cup of tea was the first thing that morning that didn't upset her stomach. Chloe sighed deeply, cradling the mug in her hands.

So far, so good.

Not that there was much left to throw up, anyway. She'd woken up around five, that queasy, rolling, inevitable feeling starting to rise inside of her. Trying to go back to sleep was futile. Ten minutes later, and she was on the bathroom floor, leaning her head against the cool tiles as she tried to catch her breath again, throat raw and mouth sour.

At least Trixie let me sleep in.

Not wanting to wake her daughter by rummaging around downstairs, she'd opted instead for taking a quick shower and folding some of the laundry. Around seven she'd dressed and softly crept downstairs, setting the counter for breakfast before going to wake Trixie.

Her monkey was growing up, and fast. Too fast. She'd shot up a good couple of inches the last year, all gangly limbs and clumsiness. Sometimes Chloe wished she could just stop time, if only for a moment. The lament of every parent, she knew, but still. The years just seemed to fly by.

"Trix," she said, gently shaking her shoulder. "It's time for school, honey."

Trixie groaned, the only sign of life she displayed, lying perfectly still otherwise. Getting her out of bed these days was an achievement on its own, and if Chloe didn't push her, she'd fall right back asleep.

"Come on, monkey. Breakfast's ready," she coaxed, pulling the blanket down so she could see her frowning face, eyes screwed shut against the bright morning light.

"Moooom," Trixie whined sleepily, shifting lower to make up for the lost space. "It's way too early," she mumbled.

"It's already seven o'clock. You're gonna be late, and you know how Miss Smith hates tardiness."
The old English teacher even managed to scare her sometimes, and Chloe could honestly say she had seen her fair share of things.

Letting the words sink in, Trixie peeked one eye open. "Fine," she sighed. "I'll be out in five minutes."

Chloe patted her shoulder. "I'll put some bread in the toaster."

Thankfully she hadn't reached the phase yet where getting dressed took more than half an hour. But she shouldn't judge, really. She remembered those mornings in the bathroom all too vividly, spending too long trying to perfect her dark makeup, while her mother banged on the door calling that they'd be late while her dad tried restoring the peace from the kitchen. Her goth phase. Even thinking about it made her cringe.

Suppressing a shudder at the memories, Chloe had made her way back into the kitchen.

Now she was finally seated at the counter, feeling somewhat at peace for the first time since she'd woken up. She sipped her tea, sighing as the warm liquid soothed her still-aching throat. It had to, given the ridiculous amounts of honey she'd poured into it. But hey, something had to pass for breakfast these days, right?

The bedroom slid open, and Trixie stumbled out, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes while clutching an unzipped backpack in the other hand.

"Welcome to the world of the living," Chloe said, pouring her a glass of orange juice as the girl slid onto the bar stool next to her.

Trixie let out an appreciative grunt, stifling a yawn behind a hand as she took the glass from her.

"First week of September hitting hard, huh?"

"I just really miss being able to sleep in," she complained with a deep sigh.

You and me both, Chloe thought.

A short pop sounded behind her, and the smell of fresh toast filled the kitchen. She put her mug down and grabbed a plate, then walked into the kitchen. She plucked the hot slices of bread with two fingers from the device to avoid blistering her skin. "Ouch. Ouch!" Chloe placed the plate in front of her, sitting back down. "There you go, monkey."

"Thanks." Trixie frowned. "Don't you have to eat something as well?"

She lifted her mug in demonstration. "I'm all good."

"Still waking up sick, huh?"

"Yeah," she sighed, taking another deliciously warm sip. "But, you know, it's not my first rodeo."

Smiling at Trixie over the rim of her mug, her daughter returned the expression a beat later. She was content to enjoy the moment, just the two of them having breakfast together, her stomach having settled down for now.

Not that it ever lasted, but once they'd cleared the morning hours the worst was behind them. With Trixie the nausea had been more intense, but thankfully in short bouts.

Rory, on the contrary, went for the long game.

Trixie tried to reach for the peanut butter jar on the other side of the counter but couldn't quite get there. There were dark circles under her eyes, and a distance in them that unsettled her. This was beyond mere fatigue. Wordlessly passing the jar, Chloe scrutinized her face.

"Are you alright, Trix?"

She took it with both hands, attempting and failing to wring it open, but didn't meet her eye.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, summer was busy, and it's your first week of school since..."

The words hung unspoken between them, and the easy air from moments before became unbearably heavy.

Since your father was killed.

Trixie put the jar down in front of her with a heavy thump, then shrugged dismissively, but not quite hiding her distress.

"It's... different. But I- I still miss him, mom. I miss him so much." Her lower lip wobbled, and Chloe leant over and took her hand.

She sniffed, once, then straightened herself. "But school's good for that. The same way that science camp was this summer. It - it takes my mind off things, you know? So that I don't have to... think about it all day long."

Chloe nodded, the press of tears at the back of her throat.

She's so strong, but she shouldn't have to be. Shouldn't have to carry this grief around at such a young age, all the while pretending to be fine.

"No, I get it. I get it one hundred percent." Then she added, more sternly, "But don't you ever think that you have to hide your feelings for me. Don't think that you need to spare me in some way, alright? Especially not now," she said, indicating her belly.

"Trixie, I'm your mother, it's my job to be there for you. Keep talking to me. Even if my head's down the toilet."

That response elicited a faint smile from the girl. "Okay, mom."

A weight slid off her shoulders, though she'd be keeping a keen eye on her, as she had the previous months. Trixie kept getting better and better at hiding her emotions.

A damnable family trait all of us Decker women share.

Chloe held out her hand. "Now give me that before you hurt yourself."

At least she was opening it the proper way, and not like Maze did, banging the lid on the edge of the counter until it popped open (or broke). The surface was littered with nicks and dents because of her primitive methods. She hoped Eve wasn't too fond of her kitchen.

She took the jar of peanut butter from her daughter, facing away from her to twist it open.

With a mere flick of her wrist, the jar burst into a hundred pieces, spraying glass everywhere. Shock rippled through her at the sound, like a window shattering. The shards rinkled as they hit the kitchen tiles.

Chloe shot up, rushing to Trixie. "Are you okay? Did any of it hit you?" she asked frantically, inspecting her thoroughly.

Trixie shook her head, wide-eyed, having jumped off the bar stool instinctively. "Mom, your - your hands."

In a daze, Chloe looked down. They were covered in bleeding cuts, ranging from light grazes to larger wounds. Her left hand had sustained the worst, a deep gash cutting across her palm, leftover shards sticking out of her skin.

"I - I don't know what happened."

Blood was starting to drip down her fingers, and before she'd had any chance to react, Trixie was already at her side, wrapping her hands in paper towels.

Pain was starting to flare up now the initial shock had subsided, her skin starting to sting and pulse mercilessly.

They both stared at the remnants of the solid, glass jar, now lying half-shattered on the floor.

How had that happened? She'd just twisted the lid open, without putting an insane amount of pressure on it-

Trixie led her into the kitchen as she started to bleed through the towel, placing her hands above the sink. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

Chloe unwrapped the blood-soaked paper from her hands, wincing at the pain shooting up her arm. She pried the ring off her hand with the two fingers that hurt the least and pocketed it, not wanting to get any blood on it.

At least the gash was on her left palm, not her right. Otherwise her paperwork would be a lot harder, and the pages no pristine white anymore afterwards.

How the hell had she managed to do that? There must have been a fault in the glasswork, probably worsened by Trixie's previous attempts to open it. So that when she put pressure on it, it burst. Yes, that was a logical explanation. Next time she went grocery shopping she'd inspect her purchases better.

"You okay, mom?" Trixie called, walking back into the kitchen. A first-aid kit, bandages, a box of band-aids and disinfectant all piled in her arms. She seemed happy to be able to help, some of the life having returned to her features.

"I'm fine, don't worry."

She dropped all the stuff beside the sink, then opened the red first-aid kit to retrieve a pair of tweezers. "Give me your left hand first."

Chloe obeyed, stretching her arm out.

Trixie sprayed a generous amount of disinfectant on her skin before starting to carefully pluck the glass out, the sting of it making her clench her teeth. But she'd be damned if she uttered as much as an 'ouch'.

Chloe sighed, eyeing the mess behind her. Peanut butter was splattered on the tiles and cabinets, shards littering the kitchen tiles and part of the living room. Now they'd still be late, despite getting up so early. And to make matters even better, she found her stomach protesting once more.

Rory, give mommy a break, please.

"I'm sorry about your breakfast, monkey."

"It's okay, mom," she said cheerfully, dropping a piece of glass in the sink with a light clink. "I'll just have some Froot Loops."

Chloe winced as she continued to type out her report, the throbbing pain flaring up the moment her fingers touched the keys.

Trixie had bandaged her left hand tightly, making it hard for her to move her fingers separately. Her right hand was covered in a multitude of colorful, animal-shaped stickers since those were the only ones they still had.

She took a sip of her earl grey, finishing up the last couple of words in the documents. God, she missed coffee. Well, back when the mere smell of it didn't make her want to hurl her guts up.

Before she'd left home, she'd briefly considered taking a painkiller, then decided to ask her gynecologist first. The internet wasn't a help on the matter, and her last pregnancy had been more than ten years ago. Certainly there had been some scientific discoveries and advancements in the meantime? And what were effects of it on a not-quite human baby?

A knock sounded on the door, startling her from her thoughts.

"Just a minute," Chloe called, taking extra care to make sure she'd saved the document she'd spent more than double the usual time to type out.

Patting down her hair for any stray strands that might have escaped her bun, she quickly tossed some papers on a pile to at least give the appearance of being organized. Getting back to work hadn't been easy, especially after she'd been promoted so quickly. She still had to find her way in her new function, but it felt good to be busy again.

Were Ella and Carol already back from the crime scene?

She straightened in her chair. "Come in."

The door opened, and an all-too familiar head poked inside.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," Lucifer said.

Chloe's face lit up, joy replacing her initial confusion. "Hi!" she said, rushing over to embrace him. Maybe she miscalculated the distance between them, but when she threw her arms around him, she could have sworn it knocked the breath out of him. Literally.

"Hi," Lucifer replied softly, returning the embrace and resting his head on top of hers.

They both stood there for a while in silence, savoring each other's presence. He smelled like sulphur and ashes, half-hidden under his cologne.

Chloe drew back first in order to face him, arms lingering at his sides. "I missed you."

Lucifer smiled back, gaze tender as he cupped her cheek. "I missed you, too." Then he leant down and tilted her head into a sweet kiss, making her heart stutter and her chest glow.

Perks of having an office of her own: finally being able to kiss her partner without dozens of prying eyes tracking their every movement - and the occasional wolf whistle.

By the time he pulled away they were both a bit breathless, but with an identical ear-to-ear grin.

Lucifer's gaze dropped to her abdomen, and a sudden flash of panic crossed his features. "Please tell me she's still in there."

Chloe chuckled, patting his arm. "She's fine. It's Thursday, you were only gone for a couple of days."

His shoulders sagged in relief, and he sighed deeply. "Thank goodness. Sometimes it's hard to estimate the time when I'm down there."

"We're both fine, don't worry."

Lucifer made to reach for her again, then froze mid-air. "What happened to your hand, love?"

"Oh, this," she started, holding them both up in front of her. It did make for a miserable sight, the mismatch of bandages and animal band-aids. The sharp tang of disinfectant still clung to her skin.
"Just a kitchen accident this morning. It looks much worse than it really is, though."

He carefully took her hands in his to examine them closer, eyebrows creased in worry. "What on Earth did you do? Wrestle with the knife drawer?"

"A jar broke while I was holding it, probably a crack I hadn't noticed. Trixie patched me up afterwards."

The wary look he gave her told her he wasn't entirely convinced, and he hesitated a second before dropping the matter with a shake of his head. Instead, he raised her hands so he could pepper them with feather light kisses.

Chloe hummed, somewhat distracted from the throbbing pain in her palm by his careful ministrations. Something uncoiled inside of her, all the stress sliding off. He was here. He was here, with her. When he was by her side, she always felt lighter, her problems somehow smaller.

Straightening himself once more, Lucifer looked momentarily embarrassed at his actions, but the expression quickly faded at her pleased smile.

He cleared his throat. "Well, what I actually came to ask you was if you would like to join me for lunch. If you have time, of course," he added quickly. He looked around the office, his pride at her achievement unmistakable. "I can only imagine the workload, Lieutenant."

"You're certainly not wrong about that," she sighed. "But I would love to have lunch with you, Lucifer. I've missed my partner."

"Excellent," he beamed.

"I'll go get my stuff."

She walked to her desk and pocketed her phone and wallet. She scanned the surface, then looked around her. "Where the hell did I leave my sunglasses?" She could have sworn they had been there moments ago.

"I didn't know you still had this."

Lucifer had sat down on the edge of her desk, holding the framed drawing Trixie made years ago of the two of them. There was a quiet, relieved surprise to his words.

Chloe looked up from her rummaging. "Of course I do. Why would I have gotten rid of it?"

"I - I don't know. But I'm glad you did." He carefully placed it back, clearly moved. Were his eyes a bit swollen, or was that just her imagination?

Lucifer quickly changed the subject. "No one's been bothering you anymore about Le Mec, have they?"

She shook her head. "Not really, besides some felicitations from some of my colleagues. The investigation's closed, and they ruled that I acted justly in self-defense."

Although some people still suspected she'd tracked the Frenchman down in order to retaliate for Dan's murder, no one could prove anything. As long as she stayed quiet about the reason she was at Tenth and Swanson that night, she'd be fine. They'd been able to successfully divert the questions from the detectives - thankfully no one from her precinct - and their connection to Rory had stayed hidden. In the officer's eyes, she was just a friend of the family.

"Good," Lucifer replied. "Or I'll have a nice chat with them to change their minds about certain things."

The drawer. She'd put it in the drawer after nearly knocking it to the floor with an elbow. With a triumphant 'hah!' she pulled it open.

Metal screeched and several objects clattered to the floor, and Chloe was left holding the warped, dented, heavy desk drawer in her hand. Her cuts started to sting, and she dropped it with a hiss on the desk.

They both stared at it, too dumbfounded to speak.

Not again.

"What the hell?"

"Unless you've been chugging protein by the dozens while I was away, I'm going to assume this isn't caused by the vitamin supplements you're taking?"

Dread slithered down her spine, and she locked eyes with him. But that couldn't be.

"The necklace isn't back, is it?"

"No," Lucifer slowly said, staring at the drawer. "It's safely stored away in Heaven, alongside Azrael's blade. Amenadiel and I made sure of it. Even if it somehow ended up on earth, its power would be nullified."

Good. The further that thing was from her, from her family, the better. She wanted nothing to with it anymore, nothing. How vile could something be if it drove her to hurt the one she loved most? Even if it was created in Heaven? And still, still there was some dark, subconscious part of her mind that longed to have that strength back. Craved it, even. She didn't know if it would ever fade.

Lucifer's gaze flickered to her bandaged hands, and realization dawned upon him. "It wasn't a kitchen accident, was it?"

Chloe dropped in her desk chair, peering inside the desk. The interior mechanisms were warped and twisted beyond use, the hinges all but ripped out.

I just opened my drawer.

"I thought it was at first, but now I'm not so sure anymore."

Then it wasn't the necklace, or any part of the blade connected to it. What else could it be? It had to be celestial in nature. Chewing on one of her already bitten-down nails, a thought struck her.

"What if some of your strength passed to me when we, you know..."

The corner of his mouth twitched upward into the beginning of a feline grin. "Well, there have certainly been many, many opportunities for that to have occurred the past few months. But last time it happened, it was my power that transferred to you, not my strength. Theoretically speaking it could be possible, I suppose."

Lucifer frowned, rapping a rhythm with his fingers on the surface. "You said the accident happened this morning, right? The first time that it occurred?"

Chloe nodded. "But if this was the first time ..."

"... then it couldn't have come from me. It has been quite a while, love." The note of longing in his voice would have made her blood sing if she wasn't so puzzled about the entire situation.

"Maybe it lay dormant for some time?" she tried, but they both felt that that wasn't the answer.

Lucifer pushed off the desk, started to pace the length of her office. "You haven't come in touch with exotic, foreign objects? Visited shady antique stores? Gotten a gift from a demon? They make terrible merchants, by the way. "

"No. To all of the above," she added. She made a mental note to test Maze her skill on economics, just for fun.

Chloe threw her hands up in exasperation. "I don't know! I honestly have no idea, but all I know is that I can't go on like this. My office will be in ruins by the end of the week, let alone my house." She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. "There has to be an explanation for this."

"NutriBomb pregnancy supplements?" Lucifer offered with a playful smile in an attempt to lighten the mood, his gaze impossibly tender as it dropped to her still-flat belly.

Their heads shot up at the same time.

"Pregnancy supplements!" they chorused.

"Chloe, it's not me giving you that strength, it's Rory!" He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "It's our daughter!"

She ran a hand over her abdomen. Even after nearly three years, she still didn't understand completely how celestials worked. Frankly, neither did they. "Do you think so? I mean, she's not larger than a pea right now."

"Well, it's the only reasonable explanation, isn't it? The angel blood in her veins must be affecting you as well." He shook his head, baffled. "Incredible."

A comfortable, awed silence fell between them. Chloe chuckled at the absurdity of the situation, though knowing deep down that this was probably the cause of it. Granted, she'd had to accept much weirder truths over the years. And this was one was just really sweet, actually.

"Not even born and already causing trouble," she said with a raised eyebrow at him, a playful glint in her eye.

"Not even born and already looking after her mother," Lucifer replied softly.

"She must take after her father, then."

He choked up a little at her words and, momentarily speechless, leant forward over the desk to brush his lips against hers, barely there but sending a rush of warmth through her nonetheless.

Drawing back in order to face her, he said, "There's still one problem, though."

"Being?"

"This means you'll be cracking jars for a while. A little less than eight months, to be precise."

Chloe smiled. "I'm okay with that."

Lucifer tilted his head to the side, confused at her sudden shift in attitude. "I thought this made your job harder."

"Well, sure, it does, in a way. But it's not the first time celestial matters have given me... interesting challenges -"

"Certainly a delicate way of putting it."

"- and I have always made it work. Always." They had their ups and downs, but the one constant in all of it was that they never gave up on each other. "Besides, this isn't caused by an external factor, like that damn necklace or some other divine artifact. It's our baby. I'll learn to handle it."

Lucifer smiled. "I'm sure you will."

Chloe sighed, relaxing in her seat. One less thing to worry about in her already buzzing mind. Being a lieutenant came with a lot of stuff she hadn't considered, and she really missed having her partner beside her.

Especially since he stayed in Hell for days on end, sometimes even weeks. And while those felt like days to her, they were at least a tenfold longer for him. So she wanted every moment they shared, however brief it may be, to be as carefree as possible.

"Shall we go have lunch, then?" she asked, wanting to get out of the office before she broke anything else. It was a small miracle no one had come knocking at her door to see if everything was alright.

"Absolutely." The initial tension from moments ago was fading, the set of his shoulders loosening, and an easy, subdued smile spread across his face. He released her hand and plucked her sunglasses from the dented drawer on the desk, somehow still miraculously intact.

"Thanks." She accepted the glasses and pushed them into her hair, then got up to grab her bag. Ever so careful, she slowly lifted the strap and hung it around her shoulder, aware of Lucifer following her movements. Nothing happened. She blew out a breath.

Easy does it.

She patted herself down. Keys, check. Phone, check. Taking a glance in her bag confirmed that she had everything with her.

Lucifer was looking at her with a wistful expression full of affection, as if he couldn't believe she were real.

"What?" A smile was tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"I've just missed you."

The weight of his words left little to imagine the size of his loneliness. How long had it been for him?

Heart aching, she rounded the desk and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her cheek to his chest. "I've missed you, too. We missed you."

Lucifer returned the embrace, letting out a heartfelt sigh

Whatever stress she might have had moments ago had evaporated. Because he was here, and she was home.

A loud growl from her stomach disrupted the silence, and they both burst out laughing.

"Looks like she's demanding a sacrifice," Lucifer chuckled, sliding a hand over her belly.

Chloe covered his hand with hers. "As in great Italian food?"

Pasta was one of the few things she could eat without getting nauseous, and there was this fantastic restaurant downtown he'd once taken her to after they'd gone to the movies, not long after they definitively got together. Their pasta pesto was to die for, but reservations were a nightmare.

"I'll call when we're in the car. Antonio always has a spot for me there, especially when he knows I'll bring you."

She hummed happily, then pecked him sweetly on the lips. "Let's go, then."

Lucifer quickly kissed the tip of her nose before sweeping his arm out. "After you, love."

Unable to contain her glee, she strode for the door. Occasionally she lamented not being able to see him every day like she used to, but it made the moments she did even more precious.

Dinner here, a day off there. Visiting their friends together, or Taco Tuesday with Trixie. Sometimes he'd just spend the night, or the bed would dip in the wee hours and he'd cradle her in his arms, murmuring 'I love you's' and sweet nothings against her skin until sleep reclaimed her.

When she woke up, the space beside her was still warm but empty, a note left in his wake along with some snow-white feathers, indicating that it hadn't been a dream.

Maybe that wasn't normal, but it was incredible.

Chloe heard Lucifer's breath of intake behind her, but it was too late when she realized her mistake.

A bright clang sounded, and the door handle popped clean off the frame. She stared at it, the metal cool in her palm. "How the hell-"

Lucifer stepped up beside her. "I do fear you're going to have to be more aware of your surroundings from now on."

Chloe sighed. Good thing then she had more of a desk job now. What other effects beside the obvious was this pregnancy going to have on her?

He took the handle from her and placed it on the couch under the window. With a push of his hand, he forced the door open for her.

Sensing her darkening mood, Lucifer said, "Chloe, you'll figure it out, alright? We'll be fine."

She nodded, shaken from her thoughts. "Yeah, I guess I will." She just hoped the precinct was still standing by the time she did. Hopefully Linda had some helpful advice on the matter. She walked through the door, Lucifer following suit.

"Nine months, love," he said, carefully closing the door behind him. "Nine months."

Right now she just hoped her pasta survived.