Lucifer stood in front of the window that looked out on the street. They were back in the building that held Lux, North Star, and his penthouse suite. He wasn't used to viewing the street from this angle, and he pressed his forehead against the glass so he could see the long line of people waiting to enter Lux at street level. There was a separate door to lead to the North Star offices, along with the other floors in the building between here and his home far above. Not that it mattered.

No one was trying to get in that door. Lucifer sighed and turned from the window, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he looked around the large office. They had an entire floor all to themselves and while they both had even decorated their own small inner offices, what Lucifer had really wanted was this large area with the twin wooden desks flanking the wall across from the door to the hallway. A place where the two of them could sit together and discuss mysteries and try to solve them.

There was a cluster of chairs and a coffee table to the right of the door and to the left an empty closet in case a client needed to hang up a coat or some such thing. Next to the closet was a tiny kitchenette—fridge, sink and microwave. A bigger kitchen with tables and chairs was just down the hall. The carpet here was a golden brown and the walls a neutral beige. The two desks were antique and Lucifer had made sure to acquire matching antique desk chairs as well. In between the two desks was a coat tree with a single fedora hanging from it.

Oddly enough, the fedora had come from Eric. A gift when the vampire had officially shown up in L.A. with all of his belongings. He'd pulled it out of a box and placed it on Lucifer's head, deeming it the perfect headgear for a private eye. There'd been no second one to put on Eric's head and the gleam in the vampire's eye had told Lucifer that the vampire was probably dressing him up for his own pleasure.

Well, Lucifer could certainly understand that sort of kink. Had he not once put Eric in a gorgeous linen suit?

Lucifer crossed from the windows to the coat rack, picking up the fedora and putting it on his head at a jaunty angle. He smiled to himself as he turned to see his reflection in the window across the room. With the right suit, he'd certainly look the part of a gumshoe investigator from the roarin' twenties. He quite liked the look.

Thinking about which suit would match it best, Lucifer sat down in his designated chair, enjoying the creak it made as it took his weight. Eric was sitting in his own chair, laptop open on the desk and typing quickly, his vampire speed impressive even if he had to stop every few minutes and wait for the computer to catch up to him.

Despite their both having private offices, Eric had set up his computer and technology out here in the shared office almost as soon as he'd brought his things to Los Angeles. It had warmed Lucifer's heart, knowing the vampire would rather sit out here with Luci than hide in a tiny ten by ten room alone with his thoughts. But the vampire actually used his computer—unlike Lucifer with his desk that held an ashtray, a couple of detective novels, and an alarmingly large collection of stationary.

Lucifer's desk was for looks. Eric's, it appeared, was for work.

"What on earth are you doing?" Lucifer asked.

"Trying to make sense of all these receipts," Eric said, clicking on something on his computer and furrowing his brow. "How the hell did these chairs cost five thousand dollars?"

"Two and a half each," Lucifer replied, pushing his chair across the thin office carpeting to put himself between the two desks. The casters moved quite well, given the chair was a hundred years old.

Eric frowned at him. "Why? Why would anyone spend that much on a fucking chair?"

Lucifer sighed at the vampire. "They're antiques," he replied, affronted. "How much did that little throne of yours cost you, hmm?"

Eric looked up from the laptop to meet Lucifer's gaze. "Nothing. Ginger picked it up from the side of the road."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Beside the point," he said, continuing to defend himself. "These are antiques. Same as the desks. Why have a practice if you refuse to look the part?"

Eric just shook his head as he continued to type on the laptop. There was a crumpled mess of receipts next to the laptop and Lucifer leaned over in his chair to see that they were his receipts. He recognized the shop names. "Where did you get these?" he asked, surprised. He was pretty sure he'd thrown all those out.

"Your garbage can," Eric replied, pausing to sift through them and pull out the rather long receipt that included all of Lucifer's new stationary and pens. "Why weren't you planning on claiming these as business expenses?"

Lucifer shrugged, rolling the chair again until he was in the middle of the room. Was this what it was like to have a desk job? "I bought them. I didn't think I needed to save the receipts. It's just furniture."

Eric typed away for a moment and then stopped. He sighed. "Were you not planning on filing these as expenses for the agency?"

"No. Why would I?" Lucifer asked. "I wanted furniture and I bought it."

"But you don't just buy the things, Luci. The furniture is for your new business." Eric gestured at the four walls around them. "It's foolish not to expense it. Expense it and our taxes go down."

Lucifer huffed at Eric. "That's Maze's job; balancing the books."

"Yes well, Maze isn't here. It has to get done. Now, before we lose the damn receipts."

"Viking, you're not my bloody secretary. If you really want everything in order, we can just hire someone."

Eric paused in his work, looking up to meet Lucifer's eyes. "What do you want a secretary for?" he asked.

"I don't," Lucifer replied. "You're the one who wants to work on the accounts, not me. I'd just as soon pay for the furniture out of my own pocket and leave it be."

Lucifer rolled his antique office chair back behind his own desk, looking down at everything he'd put there. It looked like a detective's desk. But it didn't look like he'd ever do any paperwork here. Of course, he'd always left the paperwork to the police when he'd been consulting for the L.A.P.D. Lucifer dropped his hat onto the desk, liking the fedora sitting next to the neat stack of legal pads and the ashtray.

Eric was still talking, although he'd stopped tapping away at his computer. "I like doing the paperwork," he told Lucifer. "I enjoy numbers. But I suppose there could be some benefits to having a secretary."

"Oh?" Lucifer asked, still trying to decide if he was just faking it or if he could really be an actual detective. Not just one who helped the police, but one who did real detective work. Without help from someone else.

Eric stood from his desk and stretched, his long arms reaching for the ceiling but not quite reaching. He had cast off his leather jacket, and with only the ass-kicking leather boots on his feet to say otherwise, looked the part of a civil servant in his slacks and button-down shirt. He came to sit on the edge of Lucifer's desk, looking down at the devil.

Lucifer, not minding this at all, looked up expectantly. "What could a secretary do that we can't do together?" he asked and the question almost came out sounding petulant. Almost, but not quite.

Eric's one hand came out to fiddle with the various pens in Lucifer's mug that sat in the middle of the desk. "They can do all sorts of things," he said, his voice sexually charged, telling Lucifer to expect something from the vampire.

It was a marvel that the vampire and the devil had such matching libidos.

"A secretary can take dictation," Eric continued, hitting the first syllable of the word hard. "Organize your files. Do your drycleaning." He paused and lifted one of the fountain pens to examine it.

"That's the thing," Lucifer replied. "I don't need a secretary for any of those things, Viking."

"No?" Eric asked, and the pen slipped from his fingers. It rolled off the desk, bounced on its tip as it hit the floor and then rolled under Lucifer's desk. Lucifer backed his chair up, the casters squeaking a bit as he leaned to look into the shadows under his desk.

"A secretary could help you find your pen." Eric stressed and Lucifer was surprised when the blonde vampire suddenly dropped to his knees before Lucifer's desk, blocking his way to get the pen. A delighted smile spread across Lucifer's face as Eric completely ignored the pen and reached toward Lucifer instead, fingers vampire quick as they worked the button and zipper on Lucifer's pants.

"Viking!" Lucifer exclaimed, his body more than happy to wake up at the vampire's cold touch. "Is that what secretaries do?"

A moment later, Lucifer couldn't talk. His hands in Eric's soft hair, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, a sigh of contentment escaping him. The pleasure slowly mounted in him and his fingers began to curl into Eric's hair, guiding the motions slightly as Lucifer tilted his own head back, lost in the moment. Having Eric Northman around fulltime was going to be a delectable lifestyle change.

The door to their office slamming open surprised the crap out of him and Lucifer's hands left Eric's hair and suddenly slammed down on the top of his desk, his entire body tensing in not fear but affront at being interrupted.

"Lucifer Morningstar! What the heck is your problem?!" The voice shocked him more than the grand entrance though. His cry of surprise at Ella Lopez's angry words seemed to encourage Eric because he suddenly felt the vampire's fangs slide out, grazing against him in a most excruciating way.

Lucifer seemed to curl in on himself, not because he was trying to hide the vampire's head in his lap but because he'd lost all sense of himself as the dangerous feel of the vampire's fangs sent him over the edge. "Bloody fucking hell!"

Waves of sensation washed over him and there was a growl of satisfaction from his lap that made Lucifer think Eric liked being interrupted. "Ms. Lopez, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Lucifer intoned after a moment of gathering his wits, frustrated that she'd barged in and even more angry at himself for letting the unexpected intrusion surprise him into finishing so bloody quickly. He straightened, surprised to find his forehead had nearly been touching the desk, as he levelled his gaze on the small woman in the doorway.

For what it was worth, Ella didn't even seem to notice she'd interrupted something. She was too busy being righteously pissed off at him.

"Lucifer, you're a jerk, do you know that? When you up and quit the L.A.P.D., you didn't bother telling me. And you know what? I said fine. I could understand. You were upset about Chloe getting with Pierce, and I understood wanting a clean break." She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Lucifer like he was pond scum. "I understood that, Lucifer. But then you open a detective agency and you don't let me know? I found out about it only because there's this giant billboard not too far from where I live. What am I to you, huh? I thought we were friends!"

Before Lucifer could think of a reply, he was suddenly rolling backward as Eric pushed his chair out and came up from beneath the desk. "Found your pen," he said, giving Lucifer an innocent but satisfied smile which he then turned on Ella.

Ella's eyes grew round but then a moment later a grin crossed her face. "His pen," she said, a giggle in her voice as she realized what she'd walked in on.

Eric held up the pen in question and then placed it on Lucifer's desk. "You saw the billboard?" he asked, sounding pleased. He looked back at Lucifer, his blue eyes lit up. "Never forget I spelled it out," he told Lucifer.

Lucifer smiled at him, positively glowing. No, he didn't think he'd ever forget.

With a quick shake of one leg, the only indication Eric had turned himself on while under the desk, the vampire headed across the room to the small fridge.

Ella was shaking her head, frowning again, clearly remembering she was supposed to be mad at him. "Why didn't you tell me you were opening your own agency?" she asked, sounding hurt. "I could help you!"

"You can help us?" Eric asked, intrigued.

"Of course I can!" Ella nearly wailed. "I'm a forensic scientist! A crime scene specialist!"

Eric gave her a sceptical look as he opened the fridge. "Are you now?" he asked, clearly not believing the tiny, emotional lady in front of him.

Ella nodded her head vehemently.

"That would be a conflict of interest," Lucifer pointed out. "You work for the L.A.P.D. I can hardly expect you to help us when we work a case. Especially if one of our cases might end up involving the police." Lucifer frowned, growing upset. "Conflict of interest. That's what she called it when the Detective kicked me off the last case."

"Yeah, well. She's full of bologna sometimes," Ella said. "And besides . . . how often will your cases conflict with hers? How many do you have now?"

Lucifer huffed. "None," he said.

Eric closed the fridge, a Tru Blood in his hand.

Lucifer began to stand but stopped himself just in time to fix his pants, the sound of his zipper going up loud in the awkward silence. "Viking, don't drink that," he said, feeling more upset than he thought he should.

If Eric was hungry it should be Luci's blood that should satisfy him, not that garbage Lucifer kept on hand just in case. Lucifer was right here, damn it. A ready and willing meal.

Eric ignored him, cracking open the bottle and placing it in the small microwave. "I'm famished, Lucifer. I need to eat something."

"I know," Lucifer replied. "But . . ." He trailed off, not wanting to admit he wanted to be Eric's meal, especially after Eric's little show of affection before Ella had rudely interrupted. Lucifer didn't want to seem needy.

The microwave began to hum, and Lucifer sank back down into his chair, feeling a bit let down. Didn't Eric want his blood?

Meanwhile, Ella was staring at Eric, mouth agape. "Oh. My. God. You're a vampire!" she cried out.

"Astute observation," Eric said wryly.

"This is so cool!" Ella gushed. "I've never met a vampire before. Lucifer, I can't believe you've been holding out on me! You quit and then go find yourself a gorgeous hunk of a . . . a . . ." she pauses, trying to come up with the proper word. "Immortal. I don't blame you for quitting the L.A.P.D. if you're planning on solving crimes with, well . . ."

Eric gave her a toothy grin. "I do believe she's saying I'm hot."

"Well, that's an understatement," Lucifer said. "You, my dear Viking, are more than just a fine catch."

"Viking? Holy. Shit. You're that old?"

The microwave beeped and Eric turned to get his lukewarm drink. Ella took the opportunity to get closer to him, eyes roving over the man in a way that made Lucifer bristle. Why did she believe that Eric was older than dirt but not Lucifer? That was the reason he was feeling jealous, Lucifer decided. Not because she was looking at the vampire like he was a piece of candy she wanted to get her hands on. No, certainly not because of that.

Ella watched, enraptured, as Eric took a sip of the Tru Blood and grimaced at the taste of it. Lucifer stood up again, uncomfortable with how he was feeling. "I'm telling you, Viking. Don't drink it if you don't have to. You've a perfectly good meal right here."

Ella suddenly backpedalled toward the door, her interest turning to alarm. "Hey now, I never said I wanted to be bitten."

"I wasn't talking about you," Lucifer said as he shrugged out of his suit jacket and hung it from the coat tree between the two desks.

He unbuttoned a cuff and began rolling his sleeve up, walking across the open-concept office toward the vampire and his clearly disgusting bottle of . . . sustenance. While he'd much prefer to be alone with Eric—fancy that, someone finally walked through their agency's door and he wanted them gone already—another part of him needed this act of intimacy, even if it didn't include sex.

Was Lucifer marking his territory? Trying to show Ella that Eric belonged to him? Or perhaps he wanted Eric to show Ella that he'd claimed Lucifer. It was probably a little bit of both if he was being honest with himself, but damnit, if Eric was hungry while Lucifer was around he wanted to be the one to satisfy the need, not some stupid bottle that heated up in the microwave. The Tru Blood was for when they were apart, not when they were in the same room.

It didn't seem to matter. Ella was completely oblivious to the hidden intentions behind Lucifer's offer of blood. She was too busy biting her lip in anticipation, hoping to see what it was like for a vampire to feed on someone. She quite possibly was the most upbeat, positive person Lucifer had ever met.

"Are you sure?" Eric asked as Lucifer offered the other man his wrist. He looked at Ella and then back at Lucifer, an unspoken question between them.

"Yes. I want you to. Please, Viking." The pleading tone of his voice made the vampire's decision easy and he put the bottle of Tru Blood down on top of the tiny microwave.

Over the past month, the two men had come to realize that Lucifer wasn't always vulnerable when he was around Eric. It was when he was desperate about Eric that the vampire was able to break his skin or harm could come to the devil. It turned out that he was almost always desperate for the vampire—whether it was for his love or for his safety, it didn't really matter. But there had been a couple of occasions where he had simply been too content to be desperate.

Now, of course, was not one of those times.

Not after what Eric had done behind the desk—and now Lucifer's ridiculous need to prove they belonged to each other.

Eric took the proffered arm, his fangs coming out neatly as he looked—no, gazed—at Lucifer. He bent his head over Lucifer's wrist, and never taking his eyes from Lucifer's, slid his fangs smoothly into the skin there. Lucifer couldn't stop himself from shuddering, having yet to grow tired of that sensation. It didn't matter where Eric chose to bite him—wrist, neck, inner thigh—Lucifer loved the feel of it.

To be preyed upon by an apex predator.

Well, it was the biggest turn on Lucifer had felt in years.

"This is so cool," Ella said from far too close and Lucifer shut his eyes, trying to blot her presence out of the experience.

The pull on his wrist grounded Lucifer and he felt his shoulders relax. Despite wanting to give the vampire more pleasure than just his blood, he kept the transaction polite, what with Ella literally ogling them. It wasn't that he was against someone watching him. But the mix of blood and sex was still a private thing between the two of them, and he wasn't certain of Eric's opinions.

But when Eric finally stopped drinking, Lucifer happily let himself be pulled into an embrace, the vampire burying his face in the crook of Lucifer's neck. Cool kisses against his neck almost made him shiver, and Lucifer knew he had a stupid smile on his face, but he just couldn't stop himself.

To be in love was a wonderful thing.

"Oh. My. God. You guys are so freaking cute!" Ella. Yes. She was still here, wasn't she?

"I gotta know," she continued. "When you take blood . . . is it always, you know . . . a sexual thing? Like, do you always want to make out after you've satisfied your hunger?"

There was a scuff at the open door to the hall, and Eric froze, his arms tightening around Lucifer not in passion but in hostility, perhaps?

"Either they're fucking you or killing you when it comes to blood. And this one, well. It's probably more likely to be killing."


I know I said I was reserving the month of October for writing the plotline, but I couldn't stop from writing this chapter. It was dying to come out . . . from under the desk, that is. *lol*

This chapter is titled after North Star by Tyler Shaw