A/N: I ended up revising quite a lot of the first chapter so I suggest y'all give that a read if you've read this before. I added about 3000 words to that so lmao. Also, thank you so much for those of you who have left reviews! I'm so glad y'all have liked where this story is going so far. Please do keep them coming! I live for reviews and I'm always looking for ways I can improve. Also, for those asking, this fic will have 3 chapters. Yay!
Just to reiterate, we're going into this fic with the following assumptions: 1) This fic is vaguely after what I assume S3 will be and the last episode as of writing this fic was 'Orange is the New Maze'. 2) I'm assuming that by the end of S3, Chloe finds out that Pierce has been using her for his own selfish, dickish desires and Maze is friends with everyone again. 3) Chloe still doesn't know about the whole Angel/Devil thing but the second part of this chapter involves four people with female pronouns, so I had to make due with the common nouns and whatnot in an attempt to make the scene both 3A) sound good 3B) clear. 4) Jenna Coleman would make an excellent baby sister for Tom Ellis' Lucifer just because I said so.
If you're reading this after S3 and none of my assumptions were correct, well... I tried. This was how I coped with the three week hiatus.
"I fuck like a hurricane,
which is to say nothing
of its sudden onset or its volume
only—
that it takes an entire team of scientists to predict
when it will happen, I—
fuck like a tornado.
In here, we will be safe.
But around us, things will be destroyed by our excess.
And I promise, baby, I promise—
we will not end up where we started."
— Excerpt from "Love" by Jared Singer
"Detective," he greeted.
"Hi."
They solved the case not more than two hours after the tip from Raziel.
As it turned out, the trapeze artist was Tita Baby's daughter and was not her niece. Salazar knew of his wife's infidelity but the couple still raised the girl as their own as they had been trying to conceive for years but had no luck. It was then Cristel's apparent little sister who was born two years after her, Krystal, who'd harboured a grudge against her older sibling.
The rest, as they say, was history.
In the end, Krystal threatened to shoot Chloe while standing from a high point. Neither of them could understand how Lucifer got up there so quickly so as to make his arrest of the girl, grinning while he did.
As far as cases went, it was one of their tamer ones. Relatively insane with a touch of convoluted family drama—so was her life in Los Angeles so long as she was with Lucifer, it seemed.
The night went on and the detective didn't know how she ended up in the lift that rose to Lucifer's penthouse apartment. She didn't know what she might have found there – him with multiple bedmates was up on the list of possibilities – but when the door opened, she found him alone, by his grand piano, playing a tune she did not recognise.
The melody sounded sweet but sad.
In hindsight, she should have recognised this was for when she looked down and saw that she was wearing nothing but a large, white button-down shirt with far too big of a thread count for her to own herself. It smelled of spice and warmth and decadence – of him, she realised, as a short cool breeze entered the room.
His whole face lit up as he called her 'detective'. Somehow, the word would not only ever be associated with him. It was in the way he said it, in that honeyed baritone with that English inflection, that she could never hear the word in any other way than his.
Chloe licked her lips and swallowed.
The next thing she knew was she was on the soft leather bench with him, on top of him, and she could feel the warmth of his hands on her thighs, on her hips, on the underside of her breasts. She could not remember the sight of it for the room had suddenly become dark, barely lit with the yellow lights of his private bar shelves, but she could feel his stubble on her neck, on her jaw.
She loved touching his face, reveling in how it went from impossibly silky and smooth to the texture of his stubble, to the shape of his face against her fingers. His lips were soft against hers, she knew, and he was gentler than she thought he would be, for he held her like something precious in his hands—not breakable, but priceless.
The next thing she knew, he'd hoisted her up by the waist and rested her atop his grand piano.
Where had her shirt gone? She loved that shirt—she'd stolen it from him on her birthday and he'd never asked about it either. The man probably had a thousand identical Armani button downs that he probably never realised that it had gone missing. Still, the shirt was gone.
Before him, she was as bare as the first woman in Creation. She didn't know why but she remembered the First Law of Thermodynamics—that energy could not be created nor destroyed and so, part of her was still part of that first Creation, still knew of that first warmth and light. And oh, when his head dipped between her legs and when his tongue flicked against her slick, warm skin, it was as if some part of her – that part of her that was as old as time itself – remembered that this, this is what Paradise was like.
She felt herself rise higher and higher, her hips bucking up against him as her legs wrapped around his head. She felt the vibrations of the piano on which she was laid and she knew his fingers played along the keys of the piano in a complicated, fast tune she did not recognise.
The fucker was eating her out and playing a goddamn concerto at the same fucking time.
"Show off," she muttered against her pillow.
'Wait, pillow—?' she thought, consciousness seeping back in. 'Wait, no, no, no—'
Chloe choked on her spit as she woke, coughing then as some of her hair had gotten into her mouth.
"Holy shit," she whispered to no one as she sat up. Suddenly the sheets wrapped around her made her feel far, far too warm. The low thrum of the air conditioner filled the eerie quiet. Her room was doused in the blue-black of the dead of night—the darkest dark, just before dawn.
She threw her head back against her headboard and rested a hand on her racing heart. She'd had dreams like that before – all of them with the same principal cast as of late – but that one felt particularly real.
'What are you so afraid of that you won't let yourself have it?' said a voice in her head. It was a question she didn't want to think about; a truth she did not want to face. For it was clear to her at this point what it was that she really desired. Rather, who. But her mouth felt dry and all she could think about was the last time she felt his kiss.
The way he'd spoken her title – detective – with such reverence that it nearly sounded like a prayer. And shrouded in the light of the sunset while the waves kept trying to roll on and kiss the shore, it was the perfect setting. The memory of his soft, maddening lips that brought a smile to hers now, in the dead of night. Her smile crept in on her as she thought of him and the dream came back to her in vivid clarity.
And as she slowly sank back between her covers, she closed her eyes and tried to recall the scene.
Her pyjama pants had gotten too itchy and too sweaty to her that once she was beneath her blankets, she kicked them off. Her shaved, bare legs relished the feel of freshly washed sheets around her. And as she bit her lip and snaked a hand between her legs as she thought of him. She imagined tongue where her fingers were; she imagined that his stubble would tickle the skin of her inner thigh.
These days, the only body she has touched like that, like this has been hers.
Beneath the sheets, her whimpers were secrets she was too ashamed, too prudent to voice out, and when she called out his name at the moment of bliss, it lasted much, much shorter than she wanted it to. Unsatisfying and far, far too quick for she was all riled up from her subconscious' foreplay.
Her bliss came out voiceless, as her mouth opened for her tongue to dance out the shape of his name but still, no sound came out—a practised silence, for fear of the demon in the other room possibly witnessing this secret that, these days, only her sheets and pillows (sometimes, her shower curtains and the tiles of her bathroom floor) knew about and saw and heard. For fear of her child coming in—because no child ever wants to see their mother like that (and she, unfortunately, knew from experience).
Her breath came in quiet, trembling gasps. Her eyelids, heavy. She sank further into her pillows, further into her soft sheets.
The sun had not yet risen and her room was doused in the known blue darkness of the early morning. She felt sweat between her thighs, upon her brow, along every curve of her body. A tightness, a tingling that sang of dissatisfaction just below her belly, and she knew that it was not enough.
It wasn't good enough and she swallowed as she knew that she craved more.
She held her fingers level with her lips – fluid coating just the tips of them, a transparent line bending as she stretched them apart – and tasted them, tasting the salt and honey of her own making. In her mind's eyes, she saw his looking at her as he did this with his own fingers—sucked them dry of her and his eyes would have been dark and devouring and divine.
She let the touch of her fingers linger on her lips, the scent of her sex reminding her of him even though she has never known him this way.
But she wanted to—oh, she wanted to.
And she was not afraid anymore.
Chloe couldn't sleep afterward and, when the sun finally came up, there was nothing left to do except start the day.
She changed her sheets, cleaned up the house a little bit, and took a shower. Her activities of the night before were just about wiped away by this routine in which she was so comfortable. And she might not have done anything differently this day if that knock hadn't come to the door.
She was just about to make breakfast – bowls laid out, pancake mix and eggs and blueberries and milk all prepped – when the knock came. She wasn't expecting anyone and yet, when she looked through the peephole, it was the last person she thought would be paying her a visit.
Chloe opened the door and said, "Raziel?"
"Good morning, Detective," said the short British woman who was far too cheerful, smartly dressed, and well put-together for an early Saturday morning. Who wears purple pantsuits and stiletto heels on a weekend?
No wonder she was Lucifer's little sister.
Still, when Raziel called her 'detective', it didn't quite feel right. It sounded far too much like Lucifer and it was far too soon for her thoughts to be dwindling back into that category.
"Just… Chloe is… fine," she ended up saying. She lingered by the door and while Raziel didn't seem to be threatening, Chloe Decker was not in the business of letting in total strangers into her home while her only daughter was still sleeping. "I don't mean to be rude but uh—what are you doing here? And… how did you know where I lived?"
Raziel's cheerful little smile turned into a grimace as if she was trying to figure out just the right kind of wording to say just enough of the truth without altogether confessing the whole of it. Reminded her of someone she would much rather not think about, given how her day started.
"I… kind of know everything?" she replied, though the end of her sentence sounded more like a question. "If you like, you can reason that my brother's got abysmal cybersecurity against the likes of me and your address is in his contact details for you."
'If I like?' Chloe thought.
She raised a brow and questioned, "You're like a hacker or something?"
"If you like," she replied, vague and frustrating as hell.
"Uh… okay," she acquiesced, figuring that forcing that point would have been a Sisyphean task. She shrugged her shoulders and crossed her arms over her chest.
"So, what brings you here? Lucifer in some kind of trouble?"
"No, nothing of the sort," Raziel replied. "Well, you're one of my brother's best friends here, and I… well, I felt a bit bad for being somewhat duplicitous with you yesterday with the whole thing at the fairgrounds, so…" She brought up her hands that she was holding behind her and revealed that she was carrying a large woven picnic basket. Raziel brought it up to level with her face and the smile on her face made her look like a girl scout trying to sell cookies. Chloe chuckled.
"I brought scones and jelly to maybe amend that impression. I made them fresh this morning. Thought you and your family might like them for breakfast."
"I'm one of Lucifer's best friends?" she couldn't help but ask.
"Of course," Raziel replied, smirking. Chloe's left eye twitched and she closed her eyes, breathed in, and sighed.
"You—the scones, you really didn't have to do that," she said. She moved aside and gestured. "Please, come in."
"Oh, thank you very much," said the other woman as she entered the living room and closed the door behind her gently and she heard it close and lock with a faint click.
'Way more polite than her brother is, that's for sure,' Chloe thought. 'She must be extra British.'
"Oh, let me get that for you," she offered, gesturing to the picnic basket. Raziel gave it to her without question and she nearly stumbled as she realised just how heavy this basket was, yet the shorter woman didn't look like she had any trouble with it at all. And she was in heels! On a Saturday morning!
"What is in this?" Chloe asked.
"Just some scones. And a few glass jars of jellies and jams," she answered. "Is it too heavy for you? Let me—"
"No, no, it's fine. I got it," she said, placing the picnic basket on top of the kitchen island.
"Your home is beautiful," said Raziel as she settled herself up on one of the high stools, her short legs dangling from the air. She looked at the walls with wide, bright eyes, grinning. She gestured at the various hand-drawn pictures and asked, "Your child's art, yes?"
"Trixie, yeah. She should be up any minute. It's Saturday so I'm letting her sleep in a little," Chloe replied. "She's nine."
"How precious," said the other woman.
"You got kids?" Chloe asked.
"Oh, no. 'Fraid not. Dad would… disapprove, to say the least," she answered. "But I do love them. Children? So naturally bright-eyed and curious about the world. So full of wonder and potential and just so… so open to new ideas. Just like you all were, once."
"Uh huh," said Chloe.
'Wow, daddy issues all around for this family,' she thought to herself.
"So, what do you do?" she asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean—Lucifer owns Lux and Amenadiel has a clinic, and do you like have a psychic tent or something…"
"Oh! No, well…" Raziel started. She licked her lips and paused before she finally answered and said, "Well, technically, I'm a writer. Bit like my Father's secretary, most of the time, more like. And sometimes, I uh… well, I travel and… teach."
"So, the whole… tarot card-thing… that was just—"
"Oh no, no, no," said the Angel. "I do read tarot cards. That wasn't just for show, I assure you." She tilted her head and looked at Chloe with an inquisitive gaze. A beat later, she asked, "Why? Have your doubts about my psychic abilities?"
"You said you weren't psychic."
"Well, I'm… not," she amended. As she spoke, she gestured freely. "But I am… quite deeply spiritual, you could say. Something on your mind about your reading?"
"I don't know," Chloe admitted. "It's… it's just something you said last night, I guess."
"Have you thought any more about what the cards said?"
"A little," she confessed, truth tumbling out of her like a river breaking from a dam. "Those readings… they… they really stick with you, don't they?"
"Only if they ring true," said Raziel, a knowing smile on her face. "That is the thing about the truth, innit? Once you see it for what it is and believe it to be true… it doesn't leave you. There is no pretending it isn't there. It's like… it's like pretending dawn's not breaking to a new day even though the sun's already started to rise."
Chloe swallowed. Her mouth felt dry.
She blinked several times, just looking at the other woman, that she hadn't heard her daughter's door slide open and hadn't noticed that the nine-year-old was just standing beside them, looking up at Raziel with a child's curiosity.
"Hi," said Trixie.
"Trixie, you're up!" said Chloe, blinking out of her sudden trance.
"Oh hello, little one," said Raziel at the same time, leaning towards Trixie. She smiled at the girl, dimples appearing in full force—a grin that matched Trixie's own.
"You sound just like Lucifer," said the girl.
"Tiny bit true," Raziel agreed. "Though I sound a bit more Northern than my brother, I'd say."
Trixie gasped. "You're Lucifer's sister?"
"Much smarter than he is, too."
"Of course you are," the child agreed. "You're a girl. Mommy says girls are always smarter than boys."
Chloe laughed behind her hand and Raziel concealed her gritting her teeth in a grin that showed all her teeth.
"If you're still holding on to that binary, sure, but I digress…" she forced out with a faux cheer. She turned to Chloe and whispered, "There's a lot to unpack there."
"So, what's your name?" Trixie asked.
"Raziel, child," the woman replied. She gestured at the walls as she added, "And you're Trixie. I love your work."
"You're kinda short for a grown up," said the girl.
Raziel laughed—a clear, high sound.
"Trixie!" Chloe scolded.
"It's quite all right, Chloe," said the woman, resting a hand on the back of hers. She turned to Trixie and said, "And I quite like being short."
Raziel made a show of looking around and she raised her hand by her lips as if she were telling the girl some kind of confidential secret and she conspired in a hushed, loud whisper, "It means I can ask Luci for piggyback rides even though I'm all grown up!"
Trixie gasped like she'd just been given a treat. Chloe breathed out a chuckle.
"No way," said the girl, the grin on her face bright enough to make the Angel's entire millennia.
"Yes way!" she replied. "You'll have to needle at him a bit, of course, but he's a natural softie. Especially for those big, pretty eyes like you've got? He doesn't stand a chance, trust me."
"Baby, Raziel brought over some scones," Chloe interrupted. "You want some for breakfast?"
"What's a scone?" her daughter asked.
"Uh…" she trailed off as Raziel jumped in.
"It's a kind of… almost a cake but it's still just bread. Mostly," she said. "You can put a bit of butter on it and then a bit of jam or jelly on top, if you like. There's some in the basket. I brought some Earl Grey jelly in there and some strawberry jam from England. I think you might like them."
As Raziel explained, Chloe opened up the picnic basket and brought out the jars of jams and jellies, as she mentioned. She leaned into the basket to smell the pastries and moaned as she felt herself start to salivate at the aroma. Nothing quite like freshly baked goods to get a woman wanting.
"Wow, they do smell amazing," said Chloe.
"You could say they're quite heavenly."
"Can I have one, mommy?" Trixie asked.
"Sure, babe," she said, running a hand through her daughter's hair. "Go wash up first."
"Okay!"
Trixie ran to do as she was told and Chloe went behind the counter to prepare a few plates. She noticed the way Raziel watched as her daughter ran off to the bathroom to wash her hands and rinse her mouth out with water. There was a fondness there, in the way the brunette smiled, that made her decide right then and there that she really liked this woman.
"You are… way better with kids than Lucifer is," she said, slathering the soft butter on top of a large, plain scone with little raisins in between the dough.
"Oh, well…" Raziel replied. "Forgive him. My brother and I have different charms."
"You up for babysitting some time while you're in the city?" she joked.
"I would love to!" the Angel replied, to the detective's surprise.
Trixie returned just as Chloe finished putting on a layer of the Earl Grey jelly on top of the scone. She handed her daughter the plate and some napkins, and the girl ran to the dinner table to eat her pastry.
"Oh wow," said Chloe as she took another one from the basket. She ate it plainly. "Oh, my God. These… these are incredible!"
"They're usually for afternoon tea, but…" said Raziel. "It's tea time somewhere."
Chloe laughed.
Trixie piped up and said, "I really like this!"
"I'll have to teach you how to make them while I'm here," said Raziel.
"Can you make chocolate cake?" the girl asked suddenly, her eyes suddenly getting so wide, it was almost as if they inflated.
"Sure," Raziel agreed. "But just between us? Lucifer's Food Cake is… divine beyond measure."
"Lucifer's Food Ca—" Chloe commented. "Oh, Devil's Food… yeah, okay, I get it."
Raziel laughed, saying, "And besides, I'm more of a soufflé girl myself."
Chloe brought out three glasses and a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator. She poured all three of them drinks and brought one over to her daughter. By the time she got back to her houseguest, Raziel was helping herself to one of the scones she brought with her dainty little fingers.
"So, what was he like? Lucifer?" she asked as she tried the butter and jelly technique. "Growing up?"
"Luci?" Raziel started. "Well, we didn't have the most… traditional upbringings, as you might expect, given your exposure to two of my older brothers. But Lucifer… he was always the best of us back in the day. Even if some our other brothers and sisters who are loathe to admit it. But he really, really was… he was the brightest, most beautiful of us all."
Chloe raised her brows and she froze. She blinked as she looked at Raziel in disbelief, her mouth hanging open and her holding the scone to her lips just a breath away from a bite.
It was the first time she had ever heard anyone talk about Lucifer with such a fondness. Those he kept in his company were not shy to sing of his praises in more amorous, lascivious situations but no one had ever quite described Lucifer with such… kindness. Not even from the few times she's managed to talk with Amenadiel. And God knows Maze did not get sentimental about her best friend, despite their recently rectified friendship after the whole fiasco with Pierce. They thought well of him and knew him to be good, yes, but it saddened her note that this was the first time she ever really heard such care for Lucifer. And, perhaps, she ought to make her care for him known more often.
'Not now,' Chloe thought to herself. 'Focus.'
Still, Lucifer's sister clearly loved him, and that made her heart soar. It was good to know that he had family like this though, part of her wondered then as to what she was really up to and why she really came to her house in the first place.
"He was always this charming too," Raziel continued. "He could talk his way through and out of anything. Well… almost anything."
"He hasn't changed at all, then," said Chloe.
"I would imagine so, yes, but I love him anyway. If you can rely on anything, you can rely on Lucifer's integrity. He is nothing if not consistent to who he is and to who wants to be," she said. "My big brother is true to his word to a fault. And to himself and… to those he really cares about."
The way Raziel paused at the end there, and the way those brown eyes looked at her, made her swallow and chuckle nervously
"Sounds like you guys have…" she said, taking a bite of the scone. "A big family."
She moaned again as the scone was leagues better with the butter and jelly, just as she'd said.
"Very," she said, holding back a laugh. "And we may have our… squabbles. But deep down, we all love each other very, very much. Even Lucifer and Dad, no matter how many times Luci tries to deny it."
"He's certainly got a lot to say about your Dad," said Chloe.
"Well, Father is…" Raziel started. "He isn't the easiest to understand and He… He's very set in His ways and doesn't really offer much explanation for anything and asks you to trust Him anyway, which has never sat well with my brother. And Lucifer's always worn his heart on his sleeve. He prefers things to be blunt and honest and true, as conniving as he may be sometimes, no matter his intentions for what he thinks is for the greater good." She paused and laughed as she shook her head. "They're so much more alike than Lucifer likes to admit, him and Dad."
"We're all made in His image, right?"
"Oh, nice reference!" the Angel agreed, grinning widely. "I caught that!"
"I think it's good for him," she said. "That you're visiting."
"I like to think so," said his sister. "And I think you're good for him, too."
Chloe just about choked. "Excuse me?"
"You like him," said Raziel. It wasn't a question.
"Uh—what?" she coughed. Chloe drank her juice.
"My brother," she said, mimicking her host as she drank from her glass too. Brown eyes never left hers and the intensity of her gaze made her blue eyes stay in direct contact. "You like him."
"What makes you say that?"
"Chloe, it's kind of my job to know things," she said. "You've liked him for a while and it's pretty obvious that my brother reciprocates your feelings tenfold at least, so…"
"I—I'm not?" Chloe denied. "I don't…" Chloe denied again. Raziel raised her brows and averted her gaze, smirking as she did so—clearly not buying it.
"We're friends. We're just friends," Chloe denied a third time. "It was never going to work out anyway, so—"
"And how do you know that?" Raziel pressed.
"We're just—" she started. "We're too different. And he just—and it all just keeps, like…" Chloe trailed off and licked her lips. "I don't…" she shook her head as she felt heat and blood rise to her cheeks. She looked down and set her glass on the kitchen island. And she finally said, "We've got a good thing we've got going on. I don't want that to—to change, or…"
"End?" Raziel asked. Chloe looked up at the other woman and saw that her knowing, borderline patronising grin was gone. There was an understanding in those eyes. A wisdom as old as time. "You're afraid if you both pursue what could make you happy, you could lose it. Lose him." A pause before she added, "Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, innit?"
"Okay, woah. You're—" said Chloe, hands in the air, as she chuckled nervously. "You're going like… woosh." She forced a laugh. "Way over—uh…"
Her palms were suddenly sweaty and rubbed against the cloth of her shirt.
"Anyway," said Chloe. "We're—Lucifer and I, we're okay as we are. We're good."
"And no part of you… ever wants more?" Raziel asked. "Dreams of more?"
"I…"
The way Raziel said that made her cheeks flush and her eyes widen. No fucking way Raziel knew about her dream that morning but the way she looked at her made it feel as if there was no truth, no fact that she could hide from this woman.
She only smiled, though. Kindly, now. Warm—like a mother's.
"Chloe," she said, reaching out to touch her hand. "You were not designed to suffer or settle for less. No one was. You were beautifully and wonderfully made… to be happy."
"Hey, Raziel?" said Trixie, who was still sitting at the dinner table, watching the two adults converse.
The brunette turned her head to the girl and asked, "Yes, darling?"
"I like you," she said. The two women laughed. The girl asked, "How long will you be staying?"
"Well…" she said. "As long as I'm needed, I imagine."
"What are you supposed to be—Mary Poppins?"
The voice made them all stand at alert as Maze showed up, clad in dark leather, with her hair in a state of morning disarray. Raziel eyed her up and down, a different kind of smile creeping onto her lips.
"Tiny bit like that," she answered. "Speaking of practically perfect in every way, you must be Mazikeen."
Maze scoffed and rolled her eyes but then grinned all the same. She leaned into the Angel and neither of them flinched. In fact, Raziel only grinned all the more.
"Smooth," said Maze, eyes looking at her lips and back to her eyes. Raziel did the same.
"You two…" Chloe coughed. "Don't know each other?"
"Haven't had the pleasure, no," said Raziel, her high voice lowering to a more sultry octave.
"No… you haven't," Maze replied, leaning in closer. "Who're you supposed to be?"
"Raziel," she replied.
"Huh… a sister," the demon whistled. "Come down from up north often?"
"For you? I can come down any time you like."
The two women chuckled lowly, licking their lips—the blazing chemistry, sparking in an instant. Chloe clapped her hands together and turned everyone's attention to her before Lucifer's sister and best friend started making out and, knowing Maze, knowing that it wouldn't have stopped there.
"O-kay!" said Chloe. "Trixie, babe, have you got your bag all packed for your dad's?"
"Uh-huh!" said her daughter, eating the last bit of her scone.
"And your soccer stuff for this afternoon?"
"Oh…" Trixie trailed off and ran to her room. "I'll be right back!" She swung her door back open to look at Raziel and she asked, "Are you gonna still be here when I'm done packing?"
"I don't think so but trust, little one," she replied. "This won't be the last you've seen of me. I promise."
"Okay," said Trixie, giving a little wave. "Bye, Raziel!"
"You're good with the little squirt," Maze whispered by her ear with the copper angel wing ear cuff.
Unfazed, Raziel turned her head slowly and said, "I'm good with all kinds of squirts."
"Jesus, you are his sister," Chloe whispered to herself.
Raziel chuckled and bowed her head, conceding defeat to the unspoken game of chicken she'd apparently been playing with Maze, and turned back to Chloe. Maze walked past her and got a scone from the picnic basket and settled on the couch.
"Well, fun as this was, that reminds me… I'd better go back to my brother."
"Oh. Y-yeah, of course," said Chloe. "Thank you for… the scones. And for the reading last night. You—you really helped… with the case."
"You're very welcome," she said, hopping off the stool. But, just before she headed for the door, she looked Chloe dead in the eye and said earnestly, "Remember… don't be afraid."
Chloe looked at the other woman and she could only stare for a second, licking her lips, and then nodding. From the corner of her eye, Raziel saw Maze take a suggestive bite out of the scone and gestured for her to call her. She winked at her and reached to give Chloe's arm a squeeze.
"I'll see you around."
Saturday nights at Lux have become, unfortunately, boring.
It wasn't that there were no more people who came through to the club. On the contrary, attendance had never been better. Still, he could hardly feel the same rush as he used to whenever he participated in the revelries that occurred down there. More often than not, he'd be wishing he was at the comfort of the Decker's family residence instead, playing Jenga with the little spawn and making dinner for four—with Maze included, of course. Make it five with the douche, even.
The allure of fleeting fancies and frivolities had lost their shine to him and his heart yearned for something more. For something real. And whenever he thought of something that felt like that, it was her face he saw—with her big blue eyes and her soft, golden hair.
He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, aching to prepare a stiff drink and dinner for himself, and just about jumped when he saw someone holding a bottle of some of his finest gin from his shelves, making herself what looked to be a gin and tonic.
"Oh, dear Dad in Heaven," he cursed.
Raziel shrugged, unfazed. "You did say I could come stay."
"Yes, well—I didn't exactly expect you to take the offer," he muttered. "Would have assumed you'd have taken off by now."
"Me? Leave without saying goodbye? It's like you don't even know who I am," she said taking a sip of her drink and walking toward the piano. "I've always liked Earth and its people."
Raziel set a coaster down and then her drink as she settled herself on the piano bench. She opened up the lid and started to play a slow, sweet tune.
"You like everyone, Raz. That doesn't exactly sell on the higher points of this plane of existence. It just shows you're an abysmal judge of character," he argued, reaching for his phone to send a text message, and tucking it back into his pocket.
"Being optimistic isn't necessarily a bad thing," she said as she continued playing. "I like liking things and believing in people." As she spoke, her brother picked up a bottle of his favoured bourbon and poured himself a glass. She said, "And besides, since we're on the subject, why do you like Earth so much?"
"They make excellent sashimi over here. And better bourbon," he said, raising a glass.
"Lucifer," she said, turning her head and giving him a look.
He snorted into his drink without humour. Raziel didn't budge—and she never would. Steadfast, all-knowing little shit that she was. There was no point in lying to her, after all.
"I like being my own being and here is where I can be just that," he said, taking his drink and taking a seat next to his little sister. She stopped playing, reached for her own drink, and listened, sipping intermittently.
"Here, I'm not—I'm not Lord of Hell, to be feared and reviled and cursed by everything in existence. I'm not blamed and I'm not at fault and I'm not—I'm not responsible for anything other than my own actions," he explained. He looked at a wall as he spoke, knowing full well that his sister was sat beside him and yet, he did not want to look her in the eye as he said all of this. "And I'm not what I was up there—part of a packaged set with a list of purposes that I never signed up for in the first place! Being Dad's Right Hand Angel, never having my own… thing…
"On Earth, I can just be me. And that can mean whatever I want it to mean," he said. He finally deigned to throw a glance her way he chuckled, smirking.
"You're looking at me like my therapist does," he teased.
"I would make an excellent therapist," she argued.
"You would not," he said, dangling his drink in front of her in a mocking fashion. "You would spend eternity trying to tell these people the best way to live their lives, going insane when they choose what's so obviously terrible for them because it's you who knows better."
"But I do know better!" she complained. Lucifer broke into a grin, which she then returned, bobbing her head and scrunching her nose as she added, "Most of the time."
"You can't help but micromanage, sis," he said as he sipped his drink.
"Because they're so stupid sometimes!" she said. He spat out his drink as he barked into a laugh. She started laughing too, elbowing his arm, saying, "It's true!"
The two Angels laughed together—Raziel leaning against her brother's shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her, hugging her closer to him.
"Listen, I love them. I do," she said. "But sometimes, humans can be just so… idiotic. What you want and need in your life to make you happy is right in front of you but these people just… obsess over self-sacrifice as if their suffering is a gift to someone else! Dad didn't create these creatures to… to suffer. No one wants that for their children—least of all Dad."
"Well…" he started to argue, but she refused to be side-tracked as she kept going.
"But you lot—I mean, humans just overcomplicate things unnecessarily and just hinder the plot themselves, don't communicate, and so much of the time, they're their own obstacles to their own happiness and it's so frustrating!"
"Are you quite finished?"
Lucifer had forgotten how much of a mouth his little sister had on her. And the way she spoke so swiftly, without needing to take a breath, was both impressive and annoying. A little amused smile played on his lips. She moved away from him then as she continued.
"You know it's like when… when you just… want someone to be happy… and you think—oh, maybe they're happier without me or they're better off with someone else, without ever asking them or… making a proper move or being true to them, or… telling them about my feelings and what I really am… or—"
"Alright, alright, I get it—you can shove off," he said, pushing her face away by the hand.
She then, in turn, then licked his hand, which he then pulled back to himself in disgust. She made a face at him that then turned into a laugh as he rubbed his palm on his shirt repeatedly.
"I have missed you terribly, brother," she said, bumping his arm with hers. Together, they were poised to play and she started it off with what sounded like Claire de Lune. He followed suit and, together, they played beautifully.
"You have got… everything that you need to be happy," she said. Neither of them looked at each other, though Lucifer threw a glance down her way. She added, "You're getting in your own way."
"So, what do you suggest I do about that, sister?" he asked quietly.
"Open your eyes," she said, her fingers playing faster and faster as the song bid. "Ask yourself—what is it that you desire?"
"That's my line," he teased.
"And… what is it that you're so afraid of that you won't let yourself have it?"
"That sounds tragically rehearsed, sis."
"It's not the first time I've said it," she said with a knowing grin. "So, what is it? What are you so afraid of?"
The siblings finished the song and, slowly, Lucifer set the lid back on top of it while his sister waited for her answer, her hands atop her lap. He could tell that she was dying to fumble with her fingers, that it was killing her to sit so still. But she looked up at him with big, brown eyes that he could never lie to. And Raziel, sweet Angel Raziel, who probably already knew still wanted him to say it. She wanted it to come from him, whatever it was that was hidden in his heart of hearts, and maybe with her presence, he could come to terms with something he'd been trying to deny.
"I…" he started. "When it comes to her?" A pause. "Everything."
Raziel put a hand on his arm and gave it a soft squeeze.
"So much could go wrong… she could get hurt. She could suffer," he said. "She doesn't deserve the kind of pain that comes with being with me. She's of Heaven. She deserves nothing less."
"Lucifer, you are of Heaven," she replied. "You've always been the best of us. I never stopped believing that." He scoffed. "And you don't get to decide what it is she deserves. She does."
"So much could go wrong," he said.
"But then so much could go right," she added.
"I can't risk her, Raziel," he admitted. "I don't—"
"You're never going to be in control of the future," she said, a finger grazing his jaw to make him look at her. And she held him there to her, pressing a thumb to his chin while her finger caressed her brother's stubbled cheek.
The way he looked at her now, with those dark eyes of his, she thought he looked so young—and so lost. Her heart broke in her chest at the sight of her brother this way and it only made her resolve to strengthen. It was why she came down here from Heaven in the first place. Raziel continued.
"Whatever it is that you're afraid of… you're not Dad. None of us are. But part of the whole deal with free will is that you can make your own choices but you're not free to pick what consequences they bear. That's just life. There are consequences to everything and some of them hurt. That's how it works. You don't get a free pass and have everything be what you want it to be so easily and comfortably just because you're you and we're us.
"We can know more but…" she stopped, licking her lips and pressing them together, closing her eyes, and chuckling at the hypocrisy of what she was about to say next. "We don't always know better. Well, you don't."
Lucifer laughed, curt, but his eyes shone, something sombre hidden in their depths.
"But what if she gets hurt?" he asked. "Her spawn? The douche? Someone else she loves? What if they get hurt? Because of me, because of what we are?"
"You know, she'll get hurt either way. That's just the fact of life," she said, both hands now on either side of his face. "You can't protect her or anyone from… from life or pain. But you can choose to be with her through it all—good times and bad. For better and for worse."
He leaned into his sister's touch and swallowed. He felt her thumb graze softly against the skin beneath his eyes and he looked down at her as she looked up at him and, for a moment, she looked just like their mother looked at him just before she said goodbye. He swallowed.
And Raziel asked, "Is the chance of something more with her worth facing the fear of what being with her might bring?"
He licked his lips and quietly asked, "What if she doesn't want me? After she finds out everything that comes with me, you know?"
"Lucifer," she scolded kindly. Softly. "Have you asked? What it is she wants?"
He frowned and closed his eyes. He breathed in and sighed, leaning to rest his forehead against his sister's.
"When did you get to become so wise, dear sister?" he asked. He gave in and held her into his embrace and she smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He muttered into her neck. "Dad should have sent you instead of our idiot eldest brother. I much prefer your company."
Raziel chuckled.
"Well, I was made this way. I'm bloody delightful," she said, leaning back away from his embrace. She then pinched his cheeks and grinned. "Took you a while to catch up to my level. And you've still got a long way away."
Lucifer smiled—a boyish smile, free of innuendo or sarcasm. A peace settled over him that he hadn't felt in a long, long time. An acceptance of the truth tends to do that and, already, he started to make plans in his head of how to declare his feelings and true lineage to the detective. She deserved to know.
But, as he returned his thoughts back to his penthouse and to his sister before him, he looked her dead in the eyes and asked, "So, you don't… disapprove? Me and the Detective?"
"I have never judged you, brother," she responded, a hand quick to rest against his cheek. "What I want for you is what I want for everyone." Her hand traveled further into his hair and her hold against him was firmer this time, shaking him slightly so as to get her point across better.
"I want you to be happy, Lucifer," she said. "I want you to let yourself be happy. And you get to define what that means for you—that's what you fought for in Heaven and you've got the chance to have it here. Now. If it's her… then I hope to Dad that you don't fuck it up."
Lucifer broke into another chuckle and she grinned.
"Raziel!" he said. "Naughty…"
"It's not, technically, a bad word…" she said, bringing her hands to herself and crossing her arms over her chest. "It's all in context."
And just then, the lift gave a soft ding! The lift's doors opened and in came their brother, looking at his phone, not seeing who was before him.
"Luci, I'm here! What's so important that—" said Amenadiel, stopping dead in his tracks as soon as he realised who was sat next to Lucifer.
"Brother…" she whispered.
"Raziel?" Amenadiel said in disbelief, eyes wide and the ever ominous Angel broke into a smile as he clarified, "Sister…?"
As if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. Behind him, the lift's doors closed and started to go back down.
"Brother!" said Raziel, running to him, the sound of her heels tapping against Lucifer's floors, and jumping into his embrace. Amenadiel did not hesitate as he wrapped his arms around his little sister and hoisted her up into the air, her legs dangling happily as she was lifted.
Lucifer rolled his eyes but even he could not conceal the smile on his lips at the sight of his siblings together. He nagged, "You were hardly that happy to see me last night even though you said you missed me more."
But Raziel ignored him.
"Razzie, what are you doing here?" Amenadiel asked, setting her back down on the ground, his hands on either side of his little sister's face. She glowed as she smiled, making her little dimples prominent on her cheek.
"Came to see you two idiots, of course!" she answered. "On holiday, officially. But I really wanted to see you both."
"And Father…?"
"We came to an agreement."
"Wonder what that's like," said Lucifer, who was still sat by the piano. He lifted the lid and started to play.
"You should ask Him yourself," his sister chided.
"Darling, the Old Man's left me on read practically since the dawn of time," he said, not looking at his siblings from behind him.
"You'd be surprised," she said. She suddenly straightened and smirked, throwing a glance at the lift's doors. "He just… He works in—"
But he cut her off.
"If you say 'mysterious ways', I will kick you out of my penthouse."
"Oh, I don't intend on staying for very long now."
"Oh?" Lucifer asked, still keeping his back to them. "Leaving us already?"
"No," Raziel started. "Amenadiel and I…" She looped her arm around her brother and added, "Actually, we've got plans."
"What?" said the darker Angel, clearly not in the know with what his baby sister knew. "We do? I—I just got here. I…"
"Am I not invited to this part of the little family reunion then, sis?" Lucifer asked, legs swinging as he turned around to face them. "I feel a bit left out now."
"Well, normally, you would be, but apparently… you're a bit busy," said Raziel.
"No, I'm not," he replied, his brows knit into a frown. She had that look on her face—that she knew something he didn't. Which was most things, given who and what she was, but there was a mischief to the way she smirked. He might even say devilish. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"What I mean, big brother, is that…" she said, unfurling her wings, while Amenadiel was still bemused by her arm. "You've got company."
She winked and, with a quick motion, his siblings were gone and in the same second, his lift doors opened to reveal a one Chloe Decker, smiling at him.
"Detective," he greeted.
"Hi."