Lucifer Morningstar was used to people inserting themselves into his life, especially when they had something to gain. But Derek Zoolander? The New York male supermodel with a jawline that could cut glass and a brain that could... well, he probably had one, somewhere. Lucifer had initially found him amusing—mostly because of his absurd offers to "glam up" Lux, and the fact that Derek seemed genuinely convinced that his opinion on interior design mattered.

But that was a few weeks ago. Now, Lucifer was starting to regret letting Derek anywhere near his club.

It had started harmlessly enough—Derek suggested some color schemes for the club's walls. "Lux needs more, like, flair, you know? Like, pop," Derek had said, hands framing his face dramatically. "We could do an entire black-and-white theme, but make it futuristic. You know, 'Matrix,' but like... with a little more edge."

Lucifer, in his infinite boredom, had let him go on, because what else was there to do? The man's vocabulary was limited, but his enthusiasm was almost... endearing. Even Mazikeen had found Derek charming in a strangely naïve way. And really, she was an expert in understanding when someone was harmless enough to be trusted with superficial tasks. He didn't even seem to be aware of the intricacies of the underworld, so he was probably safe.

At least, that's what they thought.

As the days passed, however, Derek's involvement in Lux's operations grew more pervasive. It was no longer just about colors and shapes. Derek had wormed his way into conversations with the staff, advising on everything from lighting to cocktail choices. "You know what would be totally awesome?" Derek had once said to Lucifer in the middle of the night as the two were hanging out in Lux's private office. "More mirrors. Like, everywhere. You know how I look in mirrors. And I think you need to, like, appreciate yourself more, man."

"I appreciate myself just fine, thank you," Lucifer had replied, offering a thin smile.

But it didn't stop there. Derek, inexplicably, had started showing up at the most inconvenient times. At first, it was just the occasional remark about how to "jazz up" a homicide investigation. Then, it escalated to Derek somehow volunteering his "expertise" when it came to Chloe's investigations.

Lucifer hadn't quite been able to make sense of it. Derek wasn't a detective. Hell, the man could barely find his way to the bathroom without someone directing him. But there he was, standing next to Chloe at a crime scene, nodding seriously as she questioned the victim's colleagues.

"You know, Chloe," Derek said with absolute confidence, "the murderer? It's so obvious. They're the tallest person in the room, right? It's all about power dynamics. And you've got to listen to the eyes. It's all in the eyes."

Chloe gave Lucifer a look. It wasn't quite the "are you serious" look—more like "why is this man here and why do I feel slightly embarrassed for him?"

Lucifer stepped in before Derek could continue with his... insights. "Derek, I believe you have mistaken this for one of your runway shows. This is a murder investigation. There's no 'tallest' person, no 'eye game,' just facts and evidence."

"But Lucifer!" Derek protested, hands throwing themselves into the air. "The eyes never lie. You're, like, all about knowing what's beneath the surface. Don't you think it's important to—"

"Stop," Lucifer snapped, and his voice was as sharp as ever, though his eyes betrayed the faintest twitch of frustration. "Just... please. No more 'fashion advice' for Chloe's cases."

But Derek's enthusiasm was far from dampened. If anything, it only seemed to fuel his drive to get involved. Chloe would later recount the time Derek had shown up at the station, uninvited, armed with a portfolio of "potential suspects" for an ongoing case, including a fashion designer, a professional dog-walker, and an accountant who, according to Derek, "just looked shady."

It wasn't even the strangest thing that had happened that week, but it was definitely the most annoying.

And just when Lucifer thought it couldn't get any worse, Derek began commenting on the real tension in the room. The unspoken, undeniable, electrifying thing between Lucifer and Chloe.

"Okay, guys, listen," Derek said one afternoon, sitting casually in the corner of Chloe's office, oblivious to the fact that Chloe's brow was furrowing in annoyance. "I know you two are, like, super into each other, but you're playing it way too cool. I mean, everyone can see it! You guys have the ultimate tension. Like, chemistry? Total fireworks."

Lucifer froze. "Derek, we—"

"No, no, wait. Hear me out. I'm a professional at reading people, alright? You two are like—" Derek paused, searching for the words. "Like a love story waiting to happen. And I am just saying, maybe you should, like, go for it. You know, just... let it happen."

Chloe blinked. "What?"

Lucifer threw his hands up in frustration. "There's no 'chemistry,' Derek. We are colleagues. That is all. Now, please—"

"But Lucifer," Derek interjected, ignoring him completely, "you're both so obviously attracted to each other. It's like, the universe wants you two to hook up."

"Derek," Chloe said firmly, her voice a sharp contrast to her usual calm and collected persona. "You have no idea what you're talking about. There is no 'thing' between us."

Lucifer smiled tightly. "Chloe is correct. And I would appreciate it if you kept your opinions to yourself."

But Derek was not deterred. "You're like the best couple ever. It's so obvious. So much tension. So much... will they, won't they energy. And I'm like, totally here to help you both out. Like, I've got all these romantic ideas, and you just need to—"

"Derek!" Lucifer growled, his patience wearing thin.

Derek blinked, confused. "What? I'm just saying, you two are perfect for each other. Like, cinematic perfection."

Lucifer sighed deeply and turned to Chloe. She raised an eyebrow, giving him a look that said, I don't know how we're going to get out of this.

In the end, there was only one option. Lucifer turned to Derek with a resigned expression. "Alright, fine. You want to 'help'? Go on, set up the most ridiculously extravagant date imaginable for Chloe and me."

Derek's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "You got it! It's gonna be the most amazing thing ever. I'm talking candles, roses, romantic lighting—everything! And don't worry, I know exactly how to handle this!"

Lucifer managed a tight-lipped smile as Derek bounced off in excitement. He turned to Chloe, who had her hands on her hips.

"Absolutely not, Lucifer," Chloe warned him, pointing a finger. "If you think for a second I'm going along with this ridiculous... charade, you're sadly mistaken."

Lucifer leaned back in his chair with a smirk. "Well, Chloe, we are both stuck with Derek for the time being. Might as well enjoy the chaos."

Later that evening, the 'date' Derek had set up was far more extravagant than either Lucifer or Chloe had expected. The entire rooftop of Lux had been transformed into a glittering spectacle—complete with heart-shaped lights and a table set for two under a massive chandelier.

"Enjoying the ambiance?" Derek asked, standing off to the side with an enormous grin, clearly proud of his work.

Lucifer's eye twitched. "No."

Chloe narrowed her eyes. "Absolutely not."

But Derek, oblivious as always, leaned in, grinning wider than ever. "You two are gonna thank me later. I know it. Just trust me."

Lucifer sighed, resigned to the madness. It was going to be a very long night.

As Derek disappeared into the night, leaving Lucifer and Chloe alone on the rooftop, the two shared an exasperated look.

Chloe crossed her arms. "You owe me for this, Lucifer."

Lucifer smiled faintly. "Believe me, I know."

And for a moment, despite the absurdity of it all, they both felt the slightest shift in the air—a subtle tension, one that Derek, for all his fashion sense, had unintentionally understood better than either of them wanted to admit.