That's the third time just this week that she's here.

He noticed her last weekend. She stood out, even in a club filled to the brim – sitting in a shadowed corner, eyes hooded and dark, nursing one glass of alcohol after another, blankly staring at the masses.

Even his own piano number was not enough to remove her from her reverie, but at least she was aware enough to look at him when he performed.

He didn't know what to make of her.

Lux did have an entrance fee – why would anyone go to club and pay when they could just as well go to a bar and not have the raucous noises of people around them and pay less to sit around wallowing in their own despair.

It's frankly offensive. Lux is meant to bring a place to party, to celebrate, to enjoy life – not suck the life out of people.

That's the reason Lucifer joins her on the fourth night in his club – or at least it's what he tells himself is the reason.

"Long day?"

She blinks up at him with the most vivid green eyes he has ever seen. Her hair, black, falls messily around her face – not artfully tousled but rather like it hasn't met a brush in its entire life. But she looks exhausted, up close, dark circles under her eyes, lips pressed together into a thin strip, face too-thin, almost gaunt, from lack of food. But she shows no signs of being in addict.

Curious. She clearly has enough money to buy food – as evidenced by her being inside lux drinking rather high-quality whiskey every night without fail.

"The longest," she says, her voice dry and raspy.

There's a momentary silence and Lucifer is just wondering if he should continue pestering her, when she speaks up again.

"You're an amazing pianist."

Her English accent becomes more discernible now that she's speaking up more, straightening herself in her seat as she look at him.

"Thank you, darling. Glad I could entertain you. I have to say I wasn't sure why you kept coming back when you looked so miserable here, but I get it now – it's me."

That pulls an honest smile from her lips.

"Think rather highly of yourself, don't you?"

"I mean, if you looked like this and could play like that," he nodded to the currently empty piano, "wouldn't you?"

She laughs, then stops abruptly, looking surprised as she touches her lips. Hasn't laughed in a long time, he notes quietly.

"So what brings you to my club each night?"

Her eyebrow rises. "This is your club?"

"Wow, you really are rather oblivious to everything around you, aren't you?" Lucifer notes quietly and watches her blush.

"I am Lucifer Morningstar." He gently unwraps her hand from the glass of whiskey in front of her, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. "Enchanté."

Her blush deepens.

"Ivy Potter. The pleasure's mine." Then she tilts her head. "Why does Lucifer Morningstar sound familiar?" The question's posed almost absentmindedly, like she doesn't expect an answer.

"Seriously?" He asks a moment later when she still looks confused. "You must have heard of the Bible, it's the favourite thing to misquote this century!"

There's a pause before the confusion – finally – clears.

"The Devil!" she exclaims excitedly and he laughs.

"In the flesh," he responds with a mock-bow and she nods.

"So you're immortal? And is Hell really somewhere here or is it another dimension?"

To Lucifer's surprise she looks genuinely curious. No one – ever – has just accepted his identity as reality at face value without proof.

No one.

"I- you believe me?"

She blinks. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because of science, evolution and education and the world-wide rise in atheism? Because no one expects the devil to look like me? Because the devil's supposed to seduce you to commit sins or whatever humans believe nowadays?"

She shrugs – honestly just shrugs, dismissing his claims.

"You felt different, anyway. And Death told me to come here – there must have been a reason for it. Figure you're the reason."

"Death? Do you mean my sister, the Angel of Death?"

She shakes her head.

"No, Death-Death. Multi-dimensional being which reaps the soul of every dead being in every universe."

Lucifer frowns, holding out his hand until she places her own within it, making eye contact.

"What do you desire?"

She shudders under the push and her pupils dilate momentarily before she fixes him again. Lucifer gets the impression that she could throw off the compulsion to confess, but she stops resisting.

"A hug," she rasps out, the sadness stealing back over her features and even Lucifer can feel his heart aching at the empty look in hers.

None of this quite makes sense – but this is a desire which is easy to fulfil, at least. And one he wants to help with.

"Come here, darling," he tells her softly, opening his arms to her in invitation. She hesitates infinitesimally but finally edges forward and burrows her face in his neck, arms grasping desperately at his back and Lucifer has to stop himself from twitching when it feels like her hands are caressing the place his wings used to be.

Gently, carefully, ever cautious of any sign that she may not enjoy the contact, the enfolds her in his arms, pulling her closer against him until they're pressed tightly against each other.

It's rare that someone's biggest desire is something so simple – many people have simple wishes. Be better at their job, sing a musical number on the street and have others join in, have a better voice, have more money, find the love of their life. All simple desires, nothing complicated.

But it tells you something when a person's biggest desire is a hot meal. Or a bed with a mattress. A roof over their head. Clean clothes. A shower.

Or a hug.

Humanity.

So amazing, astounding and fascinating – so easy to fall in love with.

And so easy to despise and hate, for what species could do this to their own?

Humans also often make things awkward so Lucifer is pleasantly surprised when Ivy remains where she is for over two hours, the club closing around them as he waves of Mazikeen who is undoubtedly set to entertain herself with the bartender and one of the newest security guards she's been eyeing up for the last few days.

The black-haired woman is not asleep, he knows, but just enjoying the hug and proximity. Lucifer is frankly inclined to let her stay as long as she wishes but another half hour later she gently disentangles herself, leaning back.

"Thank you," she tells him, her voice thick, despite the apparent lack of visible tears. "I needed that."

"Any time," he promises, meaning it and she eyes him, before smiling warmly, softly, another light blush colouring her cheeks.

"So what are you, that you can talk to Death? Even Dad is scared of them."

Ivy laughs and this time doesn't stop herself. The air around her is lighter to his satisfaction. He really does enjoy helping people with their desires.

"I've never feared death," she confesses, shrugging. "I've also died a few times, now. So." She shrugs again.

"But I am human." There's a pause, a slow frown forming on her face.

"Or, well, I was born human at least. Don't know if I still am, I suppose." She shakes her head, waving the thought away. "But in my universe we had magic – wands, broomsticks, cauldrons and all."

"No," Lucifer exclaims, genuinely surprised, before laughing in delight. Something new. "Tell me," he asks and she nods, acquiescing easily, letting him lead her up to his apartment – a much nicer place to spend the evening.


When he shows her his real face, still burning, still hurting, from his fall thousands of years ago, the injuries refusing to heal, her reaction is to tap his nose.

"You've still got a nose," she says, taken aback.

Lucifer stares in surprise and she uses her magic to project an image of Voldemort post-rebirth and Tom Riddle prior to it in front of him – and, well, he understands.

"I have to say, that's the first time someone's said that."

Ivy laughs and his face melts back to his human visage as he leans forward to capture her lips. They are both surprised when they pull apart and Lucifer frowns.

"I am sorry. I am… not sure why I did that." He taps his heart, feeling uncertain. He has no issues fulfilling people's desires, sleeping with them, kissing them – but this was different. Lucifer is desire personified – people lusting after him is something he is used to.

What he isn't used to is himself initiating – himself wanting – nay, desiring – to kiss someone. Since when was that possible?

Her face softens and she pulls him to bed.

"I would like to cuddle with you. Would you object?"

That, at least, is simple. He shakes his head and they entangle themselves in each other – nothing sexual, for once, happens in his bed, but the comfort is surprising and Lucifer feels more relaxed than he has in a long time, he notes with a furrowed brow, still uncertain.

Delilah, of all people, is the one to push him towards a therapist – Linda – to help him understand himself better and come to terms with everything. Lucifer, in turn, encourages Ivy to follow suit after he's had a few sessions and wrapped his head around how the therapy-thing is meant to work.

It takes a long time, a lot of sessions and even more times he turns down advances for sex – and his stewardess-partner, even, on her return visits, before it dawns on Lucifer that he's in a relationship with Ivy.

His only saving grace is that it takes Ivy even longer to realise.

Linda really is worth her weight in gold (but refuses the offer when made – both him and Ivy have accumulated a rather large amount of wealth and it wouldn't even make a dent, but apparently their therapist has this thing called integrity). Lucifer scoffs when Linda tries to tell him he and Ivy have it as well.

When Delilah perishes in a hail of bullets, Lucifer is supported by Linda and Ivy – although Ivy's own bullet wounds are still healing, they both know she won't die. Meeting a Detective Chloe Decker is intriguing, for a moment – she doesn't react or succumb to the pull nor does she confess her desires, but, well, Lucifer is still fully occupied with his club, with Ivy and therapy sessions, he frankly doesn't have time to investigate this further – although he does spare time with Ivy's help tracking down the murderer. A pathetic little weasel but the curse Ivy uses promising living nightmares is a satisfying enough revenge he leaves the rest to the police force after they forced him to turn himself in.

Ivy helps him open up a second club in DC, leaving Mazikeen to run the one in LA. This one is also warded, thanks to Ivy, against angels with an exception for Lucifer only. Amenadiel had been getting rather bothersome, lately, but Ivy had managed to put the fear of- well, of her in to his brother and he only turned up now when he could be sure his partner was not nearby. Endlessly entertaining to Lucifer, considering just how tiny his partner was, but the viciousness with which she defended him was definitely rather frightening. And impressive.

Not to mention touching – Lucifer doesn't think he's ever had anyone in his life, apart from Linda, Delilah and Ivy, who have ever stood up for him.

The words are simple, in the end.

"I love you," he tells her one day when she drags him to the museum, begging him to tell her about all the inaccuracies. They're half-way down the steps, Ivy half-wrapped around his arm, laughing still from his last remark about the dinosaurs.

It's not a special moment – it's just an every-day excursion with Ivy by his side.

And that's what makes it all the more special. This is his every day with her. Fighting, arguing, laughing, hugging, having fun and enjoying life together.

Her eyes land on his, her lips curve up in that special, soft and warm smile she has only for him, face brightening with joy.

"I love you too," she tells him, sincerity in her words and echoed in her face as she looks at him.

He blinks quickly, trying to analyse the emotion rising up in him the way Linda taught him, pulling Ivy close as they make their way back – well, back home.

Their home.

Ivy tucks her head against his shoulder, hands intertwined with his and pulled across her stomach, pulling her in against him as they walk to the car.

It's not what he expected when he went on his holiday here – this is so much better than anything he could have ever imagined, Lucifer thinks silently, when Ivy smiles up at him, asking him what he wants to eat tonight.

Most nights, they cook together.

It's a small hang-up from the Dursleys when Ivy grew up that she still enjoys cooking but only when she's not doing it alone. And, well, Lucifer has always loved fulfilling others' desires, but more than that he loves cooking and seeing Ivy's visible enjoyment when she eats the meals he made for her (another visible bonus is that she no longer looks like that thin, gaunt shade of herself she was when they first met).

Marriage is a human thing but he thinks he might talk to Linda and try and figure out if that's something he – and Ivy – want. A part of him really likes the idea of it. Ivy wearing a ring which tells others she's his. And a ring on his hand telling others that there is a woman who loved him – not just desired him for pleasure or what else he could do, but as a permanent part of her life.

Yes, talking to Linda has become a priority.

And then, maybe, a proposal.

He presses a soft kiss to Ivy's head as they part and Lucifer slides in behind the wheel, hands automatically seeking hers out once her seatbelt is fastened, pressing them tightly before shifting into first gear and then second, setting off into the traffic.

On their way home.


Author's Notes: Please review, comment and kudos - let me know your thoughts :) Hope you enjoyed.