Author's Note: Wanted to write something a bit fluff and I chanced upon this on tumblr.
"Can you accept me like this?" Lucifer turns around wearing his devil face — the same one that prompted the Detective to escape to Rome — secretly hoping she'll have a different answer, one that would preferably be in his favor. But almost nothing works in his favor.
Chloe can't even look him straight in the eye. Who could, really? The people who've had the 'privilege' of seeing his monstrous visage either ended up in the looney bin and most never recovered except for a few exceptional ones.
"I don't know, I'm trying," She answers tearfully, her voice trembling, and even though the club owner is seething at her almost betrayal, he spares her and shifts back.
"Then I have my answer."
The Detective wanted to protest at how final his last statement sounded, but she couldn't quite get over her fear. But most importantly, she couldn't get over her guilt for even thinking of hurting him just because some priest said her partner's evil. Deep down, she knew it was a lie; that's why she stopped. Though she wishes she realized sooner.
Chloe is on her way back to the apartment when it happens. A pick-up runs the red light just as her vehicle is crossing the intersection. She's almost on the other end when the other car slams into hers, causing the cruiser to roll over.
The Detective wakes up to the smell of antiseptic. She's groggy, and her head feels like it's going to explode, but the feeling of something warm allows her mind to focus, to find out where it's coming from. She doesn't have to strain so much as she recognizes who the warmth belongs to.
He's hunched over, his head resting on the Detective's bed while his hand is holding hers in a tight but reassuring grip. He looks uncomfortable in his current position, but she doesn't want to wake him up just yet.
Chloe wonders how long she's been out or how long he's been here, or why he's even there in the first place. Their last conversation hadn't been pleasant, and yet…
There are only a couple of times she had seen him so disheveled before; his usually brushed up hair is unkempt, and his suit is a little crumpled, and the color of his pocket square has been placed haphazardly as if he was in a hurry.
Before she could ask more questions in her head, he stirs and opens his eyes.
Lucifer sighs in relief at the sight of her, awake and smiling, as his vision adjusted after a few minutes of sleep.
"How are you feeling, Detective?"
Her brows knit together at his inquiry. He made it seem like he doesn't want to see her again ever, but he's here after their last encounter. Why?
"What are you doing here?" The Detective finally says aloud.
"Apparently, I'm listed as your emergency contact. I came as soon as I could."
"Why? I mean, I tried to send you back, I — "
Lucifer stares at her like she's stupid, "Detective, I can't stress enough how important you are to me. So much so that I'm willing to overlook certain things."
Because, despite what she tried to do, he loves her more than anything. Not that he'd admit it out loud.
Tears suddenly start to fill her eyes as she realizes what this meant.
"Except for the human stain that did this to you. I will have words with him later."
Chloe chuckles at this and says, "Please don't hurt him."
"No promises."
"Thank you." She gives his hand — that's holding hers the entire time — a gentle squeeze and relaxes back. She drifts off into dreamland almost instantly, looking forward to their renewed partnership.