Author's Note: Before I get into warnings, I did want to say thank you to everyone for the well wishing. It does mean a lot to me that people I've never met in real life are kind enough to leave a note (some of which are quite hilarious).
Second note: You'll notice the rating on this story has changed. This chapter is the reason why. So while rewatching season 1, I started to notice that, with the exception of sex that he initiates, Lucifer is a very non tactile person. When he flirts it's primarily verbal, and when people hug him he reacts the same was as when he does with Trixie - flinches, goes stiff, and looks wholly horrified that someone is touching him. Even when trying to get Chloe to sleep with him in Manly What-nots, he stands far, *far* away from her. So I made a head canon of why that might be and ran with it.
SO WARNINGS: this deals with non-con between Lucifer and a nameless female character with Lucifer as the victim.. IF YOU HAVE ISSUES WITH THIS SUBJECT, PLEASE DO NOT READ. The subject matter for this entire story is dark (thus the "humanity sucked" part of the description), but this one is probably the worst one that will be written. AGAIN - WARNING. Date rape is the subject for this chapter. You can read the first half, but the trigger warning definitely applies to the second half.
Despite popular opinion in recent mythology, Lucifer hadn't picked a fight with his Father over free will. He'd wanted it, surely. He wanted to be able to do as he pleased, when he pleased.
Within reason, of course.
He hadn't asked for permission to run around stabbing people or causing plagues or demanding sacrifice. That would be monstrous. He'd just wanted to be able to do…well, he wasn't sure exactly what. That was the beauty of it. Unknowing, no cosmic plan laid out for him down to the most excruciating detail for all eternity.
And his Father obliged.
Lucifer was the first to admit to a bit of a learning curve when it came to right and wrong. Humans were so frail, and, quite honestly – flimsy. In his own defense, he didn't know he wasn't supposed to interact with them the way he could his siblings. Not initially. But his Father was adamant – no direct interaction in his true form, because humans were that delicate. In their mortal coil, they couldn't be around True Divinity. But Lucifer was smart. He was creative.
Dad may have said no playing with them (because, Son, they're not toys), but that didn't mean he couldn't have some fun getting them to test their own limits. How could they not be curious about what lay beyond the Garden walls? How could they not wonder about all that life had to offer? How could they know what was good, and what was bad, and what they didn't or did like if they didn't try?
If they truly regretted it, all they had to do was apologize – and mean it – and they could go about their merry way in whatever direction they chose? No harm, no foul.
But oh…oh, was he wrong.
Lucifer thought he understood what it meant to have free will. The right and the power to choose one's path in life. It was thrilling. It was amazing.
It never even occurred to him it could be dangerous.
Because it never occurred to him to take something as precious as a life, just because he could.
After Cain and Abel, it was like a floodgate opened. Pandora's Box, some people would call it. Humans were curious. Curious, and cruel.
His Father wasn't as angry as he was expecting. Well, He was, but not quite the way he anticipated. He was upset, but it was…distant. And he wasn't entirely sure who He was angrier at – him, for his meddling, the humans for their capacity for hate and anger, or his siblings and his mother who so readily latched onto such concepts as greed, jealousy, and violence they saw in his Father's Creation.
A part of him suspected his Father was angriest at Himself.
Lucifer didn't argue his exile. If he hadn't pushed, if he hadn't tempted, if he hadn't…well, if he hadn't done a lot of things, humans wouldn't need an alternative to the Silver City.
But, if he was really honest with himself, he hadn't protested because he thought that maybe, one day, his Father would forgive him. That he wouldn't be made to stay. That humans would maybe not need a Hell one day.
After thousands of years watching humans make the same mistakes over and over and over again with no end in sight…
Lucifer got tired of waiting. Humans could punish themselves to their masochistic hearts' desire. They hardly needed him for that. Someone else could be the king of the oh so auspicious throne in the Pit if they felt it was such an honor.
He was done waiting for humans to learn their lesson when he'd certainly learned his.
At least…he thought he had.
Lucifer ached. An unfortunate side effect of lopping one's wings off and severing ties to their divinity was reduced ability to take a beating from one's siblings.
Amenadiel and Lucifer could always hurt one another. Often did. But now…Lucifer touched the tip of his tongue to his split lip.
Now the marks took longer to fade.
Amenadiel wasn't his only sibling he came across. One brother or sister was always making errand runs of one sort or another to the Earth. Amenadiel just had more of a reason to pick a fight every time he came down. Or, lately, up. Lucifer might have felt bad for him having to take over his former realm except Amenadiel had been such a colossal twat about the whole thing, trying everything from bribery, threats, and just now forcibly trying to drag him back down where he thought he belonged, he didn't really care about the inconvenience he caused his brother. He could suck it for the rest of eternity for all he cared.
He fished under the bar for his private reserve and a hefty helping of ice. Lux was in full swing but he was hardly in the partying mood, and he'd been around humans long enough now to know that his mood could just as easily become their mood. All he wanted was the bottle and some ice before retreating to the penthouse.
He took another handful of ice, wrapped it in a monogramed Lux towel and pressed it gently to the side of his rapidly swelling cheek and darkening eye.
Oh, that was heavenly…
"Ouch," a feminine voice that was most certainly not Maze interrupted his moment of bliss. "What happened to you?"
Lucifer turned to face the voice, not bothering to lower the improvised ice pack. "Brotherly fisticuffs," he deadpanned.
"I hope you gave as good as you got," the woman said, running an appraising eye up one side and down the other.
"I assure you, he looks much worse," Lucifer said, not eager to encourage more conversation. The music's volume didn't usually bother him, but that was when he hadn't been used like a piñata.
"Want me to kiss it better?" she asked, running her tongue along the edge of her teeth.
In all honesty, under most circumstances he wouldn't have batted an eye before agreeing – and suggesting other places in need of tender loving care – but tonight…
Not tonight.
"Sorry, darling, but I'm afraid I would not be the best company tonight. Rain check?" he asked, offering what he hoped was a winning smile, despite the split in it.
The woman tossed her hair over her shoulder, coyly batting long lashes up at him. "What if I said I was only in town tonight?"
Lucifer fought the knee jerk response of 'oh well' because she didn't deserve that kind of dismissal just because he was in a foul mood. "Then I'd offer a drink," he said, pulling up an empty glass and pouring a generous helping of the Johnnie Walker and setting the bottle down on the counter, "and bid you happy trails and hope you come back to LA soon."
The coy smile evaporated. "What?"
"I said, sorry, darling. But really – I am in no mood for company, even lovely as you are, tonight. Good news though," he said cheerfully, plastering a smile he hoped didn't look as fake as it felt – "I'm here for the rest of time. If you need frequent flyer miles for a return trip, I'm sure Angela is around here somewhere and would be more than happy to make a deal."
Her beauty evaporated as fast as her smile, a snarl twisting her features into something ugly. "Are you fucking serious right now?"
"Quite the opposite, really," Lucifer quipped before he could stop himself.
"I was promised the night of my life," she snapped, all pretense of pleasantness gone. "I've been hearing about her night with you for the last six months, about the mind blowing 'night that changed her life'…you've screwed pretty much everyone else with two legs and a pulse in Los Angeles county but now, what, you have a headache?"
Any thought at being civil was gone now.
"Even if I didn't before, I sure as hell do now," he snapped back. "I'm not a party favor. I don't care how far you've come, or what you hoped you were going to find here, but I do not owe you anything. I certainly don't owe you me."
The woman's eyes narrowed, her mouth opening for presumably another verbal spar, but Lucifer's attention was abruptly diverted elsewhere. Someone had gotten rowdy and Maze was stepping in, though by the looks of it, things might escalate unpleasantly if he didn't settle it and leave soon.
Putting two fingers to his lips, he blew a loud, shrill whistle that was easily heard above the music. "This is a night club, not a fight club!" he shouted. "Cut it, and drinks are on the house for the rest of the night, what do you say?"
From the resounding cheers and raised glasses – including from the two gentlemen Maze was about to throttle – one would think he'd offered keys to the Silver City.
Satisfied the problem was at least temporarily solved, Lucifer turned back to the woman, whose face was no longer curled into a sneer, but…she was clearly still angry, but there was something else there, too. Something he didn't care to identify.
"Except for you," he snapped. "You can leave, and go pound something else."
Feeling just the slightest bit petty and vindictive, he snatched the previously offered glass out of her hand before downing the remaining contents before turning on his heel and making his way to the elevator, not bothering to see if she left or stood there looking affronted.
Humans, he thought irritably as the doors closed behind him. Always thinking they're owed something.
His head was throbbing. Everything hurt and he didn't know why. He wasn't even this miserable during the fight with Amenadiel.
The world swum dizzyingly in and out of focus like kaleidoscope of colors. His felt hot and paper thin, skin pulled too tight against his bones like he might tear through it.
His bed, normally soft an inviting felt like it was trying to swallow him whole.
Dim as they were, the light filtering in from the living room to the bedroom pierced through his head like a knife and he twisted against the sheets, whimpering pitifully before he could stop himself when all he managed was to make his headache spike violently through his skull.
The mattress dipped slightly near his hip. There was a shuffle of fabric and then gentle fingers touched his cheek.
Out of reflex, he turned his head away, even though it sent another spike of agony through his head.
"Shh…here."
There was the sound of liquid in a glass and a moment later, something cool pressed against his lips.
"Drink this. It'll help."
The familiar burn of whiskey was not what he was expecting and he tried to spit it back.
No. That's what he'd been drinking before he…his brain cut off that train of thought and he didn't bother to chase it down.
Cool glass against his lips again and this time it didn't pull back, more than he could swallow despite the desert that was his mouth and some spilled down his chin until finally finally it pulled away.
He felt exhausted. He wanted to sleep, if only she would let him. He couldn't even remember her name and he didn't want to open his eyes against the light…he wasn't even sure he could…he tried. One, two, third times the charm but it didn't help. She was a stranger to him, little more than a shadow against the melting swirl of light behind her.
Weight settled on his chest making it harder to breathe, harder to speak even though his tongue felt like lead in his mouth.
"Drink this. It'll help."
Liar.
But he drank it anyway without thoughts beyond why he didn't want to.
Tactile sensation came and went, like the lips pressed against his with bruising force, forcing them apart while something lapped against his trapped tongue and across his teeth.
"Drink this. It'll help."
Liar.
But it did for fear of drowning if he didn't.
Sharp taps on his chest and passing realization his shirt was gone. He couldn't feel enough of his body to know if it was the only thing missing. He struggled to think of why it would matter but his thoughts were playing hard to get.
Sharp, cruel nails dug into his back like knives on the sensitive scars, enough to white out everything else.
"Drink this. It'll help."
Liar.
But he did because he didn't know why he shouldn't.
He would flinch away from the touch but he cannot even form the thought to move.
"Too bad it had to be like this Lucifer," it whispered in his ear. "You would've liked me, if you'd given me a chance. We're a lot alike, I think."
Lucifer felt sick, and he didn't know why.
"I take what I want, too."
It was a hard learned lesson. And he learned a few more.
That his mind was more easily bruised than his body.
That men weren't forced, they got lucky.
That the police's response to a crime was entirely dependent on their personal feelings towards the victim.
That the response to a 'no' was worse than whatever the reason why, and he'd wouldn't say it again for a very long time.