1) Thank you for the well wishes and middle fingers offered to the Cosmos. 2) I started rewatching Lucifer from the beginning, and he says a couple off handed things. Like his understanding of love is more than a little dark, or his kneejerk reaction to accuse the police department of being corrupt, etc. So a lot of the story ideas are coming from what prompted those comments. Unrelated side note - this and my other Lucifer works are cross posted on AO3 if that is your preferred platform for reading. Pen name is the same. Oh - and one more thing. These are all self contained stories as chapters, and characters from one chapter are not necessarily in the next.
FYI - this chapter prominently features murder/suicide, and the perpetrator's last line is the actual line from a real life version of this that took place at a Texas University this spring.
Lux had a heartbeat of her own. A pulse, a life that seemed as real as any person who crossed her threshold. She was also the first place in his millennia of existing that Lucifer could call home without his smile turning into a mocking sneer.
He'd learned to play the piano here – the all of three and a half minutes for him to learn the keys and what sounds they produced. He could read music, but he chose not to. What was life without a little improvisation? He learned how people, when in a good mood, could hardly refrain from joining in with the lyrics when they knew the song. Or when they thought they knew the song. Drunk piano bar karaoke was actually rather endearing with the Brittneys.
If only they would leave off with the "Living on a Prayer"…
Maze was less amused by their antics. She was even less amused about having to helm the bar when Lucifer was at the piano, but she dealt with it after he gave her permission to hire whoever she wanted to help behind the counter. Patrick made a suitable offering. She didn't quite get the same thrill as he did, being at the center of their adulation, preferring being feared over wanted.
It was a new concept for him, seeing love as something positive, shallow as it was here at Lux. The love that landed people in his domain was hardly worthy of the definition. It was toxic, possessive and dark, a black oil that clung to people's souls as they screamed in protest that they had done nothing wrong and didn't deserve to be there because they'd done it for love. Even in his own family, being loved wasn't always a good thing.
He was fairly positive his Father loved him, once upon a time. At least, that's what everyone accused him of. Love from your mostly absent Father didn't mean much when it made the rest of your siblings hate you all the more.
"Hey, Bossman," Maven greeted, practically bouncing down the stairs to the club floor, jacket in hand and wardrobe change in the bag she carried.
Not even bothering to look up from the piano to the clock, Lucifer knew she was early for her shift tonight. Not even he was that absent minded about time.
"If you need more hours, you only need to ask," Lucifer pointed out, dragging his fingers up the keys before glancing up at her. "But I think you're going to get a bit cold if you put your uniform on four hours before the club even opens."
Uniform was a bit of a stretch. Not that he actively picked what the waitresses wore, but overdressed was not a term typically used to describe them. They were free to wear whatever they liked, but knew what earned them the better tips, and in their defense, the club was hot as hell when the night crowd came in.
Pun intended.
"I know," the young woman said, flashing him the brilliant white smile that got her hired in the first place. "I'm not going to punch in just yet, just, you know, thought I would come by a little early and see how things were going. You know?"
Actually, it was a little too brilliant. A little too fake and a little too brittle, and the longer Lucifer stared trying to figure out what exactly was off about her the more it wavered.
"What are you really doing here?" he asked, turning to face her.
Maven switched tactics, batting her luminous amber eyes. "What? I can't come see my favorite boss a little early? Maybe have some fun before the crowd comes in?"
"Right," Lucifer said amiably, "I know I told you I never lie. Don't do me the disservice of thinking just because I don't tell them means I won't recognize them. So, Miss De LaCroix. Would you like to try again?"
The young woman had the good grace to look sheepish at being called out. "I just…I wanted to come in early. Is that a crime?"
Lucifer sighed. "Is this about Ethan?"
For a moment, Maven looked like she might try to divert again, but she sighed, her shoulders slumping as she practically deflated before his eyes. "Sort of?"
"I thought I told you to tell the police about it," Lucifer admonished. "I might be a little new around here, but I do know the definition of the term stalker."
"I did tell the police!" Maven protested, gesturing emphatically back towards the door as if they were just outside. "I got a restraining order against him, but that was all I could do! And what's that, anyways, besides a piece of paper?"
Lucifer was hard pressed to argue with that logic. Human laws were messy and hard to navigate even by the same species that created them. It didn't help that few abided by them anyway.
"I had to stand in front of a judge and explain why I needed one, and you know what he asked me?" Maven demanded, her voice rising and her gestures more animated as she spoke. "He asked me if I was leading him on, or if I was sending conflicting signals and it wasn't until I showed him the text messages I showed you that he'd been leaving me that he finally believed me when I said hell, no, I ain't playing hard to get."
English abandoned her and as she started to rail in Creole, getting angrier as she went and Lucifer let her. Sometimes it was better to let people get it out of their systems than try and interfere.
"They thought I was lead him on to get a damned green card, Boss! I was born in Louisiana, not a foreign country!"
"I'd like to think if you did need something so flimsy as a green card, you would tell me first anyway," Lucifer interjected. "I know someone who owes me a favor."
"Not the point, Bossman!" Maven snapped, jabbing a well-manicured finger in his direction. When she saw him grinning in jest, most of her anger dissipated as she couldn't help the return smirk. "Thanks. But, seriously, he was really mad, and I just…" she offered a halfhearted shrug, gesturing towards the Employees Only door. "Can I just stay here for a while? I won't clock in or anything, I just want to be where there's other people. At least until he's cooled down."
Lucifer waved her own. "Have at it. If you're really interested in forgetting your man problems, you know where to find me."
"You're the best," she said, planting a quick and audible kiss on his cheek before darting off behind closed doors.
Lucifer waited until he was sure she was gone before he cast a glance skywards as he raised a toast with his half-finished Johnnie Walker Blue. "See? Someone realizes it."
He'd no more than placed the empty glass back on the bench beside him, debating what song he wanted to attempt next when he heard the door again.
"Oh, honestly," he grumbled. "I know Lux attracts people, but this is ridiculous." He played the melody for Beat It just in case they needed more of a hint Lux wasn't open yet for foot traffic. "Hours posted on the door, thank you!" he called.
"Where is she?!"
Lucifer dropped his head for a moment before carefully closing the fallboard, fixing a suitably indifferent expression on his face before looking up.
"Who might that be?" he asked.
The man gripped the handrail on the stairs white knuckled, blinking rapidly even in the dim light of the club. Sweat beaded on his forehead, which was no surprise given the long jacket the man worse in spite of the LA spring heat wave. He weaved unsteadily like a sailor on the ocean, footsteps heavy and clumsy.
"Don't lie to me, you know who!" the man demanded.
"If I did, why would I ask for clarification?" Lucifer asked innocently.
The man's lip curled in an ugly sneer and he stumbled when he hit the landing, almost falling but managing to stay upright with the help of the chair nearest him. "Don't fuck with me, man. She just came in here, I saw her. I know she's here so tell me where she is!"
"Ah." Lucifer's smile faded. "You must be Ethan. I've heard lots about you, nothing pleasant. I doubt Miss De LaCroix wants to see you, considering your morning in court. Go now, and I won't make it unpleasant for you."
"You think a piece of paper means shit to me?" Ethan demanded. "Mave loves me, she's just being a bitch. You put her up to it, huh? Are you why she suddenly don't want me 'round no more?"
Lucifer tried to keep his temper in check. "Credit where credit is due, Ethan. I'm sure your behavior more than mine contributed to her no longer wanting to be associated with you. Now, toddle off." He made a dismissive shooing motion.
Lucifer heard the click before he saw the gun and didn't even bother trying to hide his exasperation. "Oh come on. That's not going to work on me, and you're going to run out of bullets before I get to you and then you're going to wish you'd saved one for yourself. You've had your fun, but it's time you learned that when someone says no, they mean no."
The gun remained remarkably steady by comparison to the rest of him. "I said, where is she?"
Lucifer stood, humor long gone. Standing next to Ethan, he would've been a head taller at least, but down in the well he was forced to look up at the human cockroach. "And I said, turn around and walk away."
Just as he was about to show Ethan exactly what he was messing with, he heard the Employee door swing open and he whirled abruptly to see Maven standing there, caught somewhere between annoyed and afraid as she recognized Ethan.
Then her gaze shifted down, and her mouth formed a small 'oh' when she saw the gun.
"Maven," Lucifer said, trying to keep calm and authoritative as he pointed back towards the exit. "Go back, and call the police."
He was fast, but he wasn't that fast. Not anymore. Not without his wings.
"Ethan, what are you doing?" Maven asked, voice shaking even as she tried to be kind. To sound like she was more worried about Ethan than herself. "Ethan, you don't have a problem with Mr. Morningstar. You don't need to point that at him."
"Maven, do not say another word," Lucifer growled. "Ethan, you most certainly will have a problem with me if you put that gun on her instead so you best keep it pointed where it is."
"Mr. Morningstar, stop," Maven pleaded. "Don't get yourself killed because of me."
For the love of…
"He's not going to kill me," Lucifer said, keeping his attention entirely on Ethan. As long as the gun was still focused on him, he didn't have to worry. Most people, when they discovered one bullet wasn't going to stop him, kept firing until they ran out. And most people, even stupidly and needlessly brave ones like Maven, ducked when they heard gunfire. Even if Ethan did turn his gun on her after shooting Lucifer, she would be behind the bar, temporarily safe while he…dealt…with Ethan.
Dealt with. Made a trophy of his spine. Same thing.
"We're supposed to be together, Mave. Baby, it's you an' me. We're meant to be together. You were the only one for me. I love you, Mave," Ethan protested. "I'm sorry, okay? I was…I was angry, and I was in a bad place, and if you would only just answer your goddamn phone I wouldn't get so upset! I wouldn't get so angry! Why gotta drive me crazy like that?"
"Hold on," Lucifer interrupted. "You're blaming her for your poor grip on your emotions? That's hardly fair, is it? Even by the loosest definition of the word, that's not love, that's…." he searched for a more eloquent word than stupidity, but before he could Maven was talking again.
"Ethan, just put the gun down, okay?" Maven took a careful step forwards, her hands out placatingly. She was still easily twenty feet away from Ethan and another ten from Lucifer, could still safely duck behind the bar – "Why are you here?"
Ethan wavered, his head cocked slightly to the side as if listening for something. A slow smile crept up his lips, and he sniffed. "You know why I'm here."
He swung his arm away from Lucifer and fired twice in rapid succession before he jammed the muzzle between his teeth and fired a third and final time, red and bits of gray and white splattering on the wall behind him.
Before his body even hit the floor, Lucifer was moving, skidding to a halt next to Maven.
Blood looked a lot different here than in Hell. Somehow more vibrant, more vivid, more…life like.
It still smelled the same. Could still taste it in the air.
Still warm as it touched his skin.
She was still dying, there was no stopping that, but her soul hadn't crossed the threshold yet. She was still here instead of there, far beyond his reach where he would never see her again.
"Maven, darling, I need you to know something before you go," Lucifer said, her hand clutched tightly around his as he brushed a piece of hair out of her face. It wasn't so much that she was dying that bothered him – humans did that quite a lot, actually.
It was the damnable pointlessness of it. Even knowing there was something After didn't seem to make much of a difference.
Not this time.
Maybe because she was the first one he liked.
"He's not going where you're going. Not ever."
Maven's wide amber eyes squeezed shut, her last breath rattling wetly in her collapsing lungs as she sighed in relief. Her hand relaxed on his, the crescent shape of her finger nails still visible on his skin.
He wondered if love was really worth any of it.
When the LAPD showed up almost half an hour later, quoting budget cuts, traffic and a litany of other pathetic excuses for their tardiness, Lucifer declined to comment on how he thought a man with every bone in his body broken and bent at awkward angles could manage to not only shoot a woman but himself, too.
Surely, officer, he didn't know. He was a club owner, not a detective.
Yes, Maven had problems with the man before, thus why there was a freshly stamped and signed restraining order in her belongings, dated that morning.
It obviously helped tremendously, didn't it?
No, officer, he did not expect the clearly deranged man to show up at the club after following the woman he'd just received a court order to stay away from with a firearm, convinced that they were meant to be together – even if that meant in death.
Lucifer was quite proud of remaining civil – even if his teeth were clenched so tightly together it made his jaw ache.
Right up until one of the uniformed officers mentioned that maybe it wouldn't have happened if she'd just let him down gently, and his compatriot suggested that this was to be expected if you were a tease.
No one would ever really know for sure what happened that day at Lux. Why perfectly healthy and sane officers lost their minds, shrieking about the Devil has come to Los Angeles and walks among them. Sudden, simultaneous late onset advanced schizophrenia was the official story. Wild rumors flew, no less impossible than the formal report.
In the end, it really didn't matter what people believed.
Because what they knew was simple: no one from LAPD set foot in Lux if Lucifer Morningstar was home.