Chapter Text
She hates him.
Absolutely despises him.
She hates the way he smiles at her - the look in his eyes similar to what he used to reserve only for her, before she had fucked everything up, destroying any hope of a future together, a future with him - hates the way he talks about her, her name closer to him than she'll ever be. She hates that the reason his eyes now soften around the edges are because of her, hates the way his hand now rests comfortingly across the spine of another, hates - no, loathes - how he talks so freely about their sexcapades and the happiness that practically radiates off his person when describing the very explicit details of their daily sex life.
But, what Chloe abhors most of all... is that she genuinely believes that he might actually love her.
She won't admit to feeling heartbreak such as this, mind you. Mainly because she knows that all of it is her fault.
How she betrayed his trust and blindingly - stupidly - put said trust in the hands of a stranger, damaging something so sacred to the both of them. How - because of said blindness - she had come close into succeeding in killing her partner, her best friend... her something more. How he does not reciprocate that feeling any longer, now placing his affections towards a different woman.
One who unashamedly embraces every aspect of his life, who's cheerfulness contrasts with Chloe's stoic attitude, who is not ashamed of her body, welcoming all humanity has to offer, becoming the embodiment of sin just from her tight flowing dresses and stilettos alone, whilst she covers what's underneath with tailored jackets, skinny jeans and sensible brown shoes.
She's not ashamed of her body - not one bit - but she doesn't necessarily feel comfortable in giving it to someone who so much as glances her way with arousal swirling in their eyes every second, of every day.
She envies Eve, that much is obvious - to her, at least - which is why she is so consumed by all this hatred - "and jealousy," that voice in the back of her head taunts, knowingly - because Chloe hates seeing them together.
Hates seeing him so happy with someone else.
She's not an unintelligent woman - on the contrary, she considers herself to be one of the most capable Detectives in the precinct - so she knows for a fact that if Lucifer were given a choice between her or Eve, there'd be no competition.
He'd always choose her.
As to why?
The answer to that is quite simple. It's because Eve has willingly given him something that Chloe has not: Acceptance.
Which is how all this came to be in the first place, because she didn't - couldn't - accept him, not then at least, because she ran without question, without hesitation, without giving him a chance to explain.
She ran when she was supposed to be different.
She understands, doesn't blame him in the slightest, actually. She was the reason everything went - is going - to shit. If the roles were reversed, Chloe knows she'd probably cut all ties with him, and that right there is how they're different, because when it comes to her... he's merciful. Even though she doesn't deserve it. Deserve him.
But, God - no pun intended - does she want him.
Chloe doesn't get ahead of herself though, their future is nothing if not a fantasy now. One she will hold close to her breast, where the muscle underneath bleeds, her agony a reminder of what she'd lost.
She should count herself lucky that she managed to preserve their partnership at all. It's pathetic really - even for her - to want more than he can give - a partnership no matter the betrayal, the hurt and the anger, will never be severed - when Lucifer has made it abundantly clear that he has left any prospect of a 'them' behind and is now embracing his future with someone else.
Chloe is his past. Eve is his present and future.
And she accepts that, she does - it's the least she can do, really - but it's been months.
Eight agonizing months of witnessing them constantly wrapped around each other - Eve more than Lucifer, but it doesn't lessen the sting in her heart - of them looking at one another with a lust and affection that physically pains her every fucking time she has to bare witness to it. Months of having to listen as his perfect lips formed the nickname, "My, darling", caressing the syllables to it with a fondness once reserved for a different, more personal nickname. Months of heading home and crying herself to sleep - the tears not enough to repair the ever present cracks that now decorate her heart - only to return the following day to repeat the tortuous cycle all over again.
It needs to stop but, she doesn't know how to fix it.
Speaking of crying herself to sleep, that's exactly what she's doing - trying to do anyway - but sleep does not come gradually. Sleep is the last thing on Chloe's mind. She lays here now, thinking of the many "what ifs" at a time where it all went wrong, all the missed opportunities, all the pain and heartbreak that could've been spared if she wasn't so fucking afraid.
If they both weren't so afraid.
Fear.
Fear is what got them here in the first place. From the very beginning to the possible end. Their fear is what has manipulated and twisted their minds into making irrational decisions in the past - his trip to Vegas, coming back married to a stripper, and her on the knife's edge of becoming a murderer - and Chloe refuses to allow it to control her now.
"Easier said than done." the voice scoffs, and if Chloe listened - really listened - she could hear the distinct sound of Lucifer's voice, hurt and betrayal oozing from every imperceptible scar she has imprinted on his skin, unknowingly or not.
She tries to formulate a comfortable position - the covers entangling with her legs as she does - and Chloe soon gives up with an annoyed sigh. She continues to lay there in her - not so comfortable - position on her right side, the moonlight currently decorating her room, attracting her eyes to its owner - its ebony glow, contrasting with the darkness that surrounds it - and Chloe can't help but draw its comparison to the man that has been a constant thought in her consciousness for months.
Darkness and Light.
The Prince of Darkness and The Lightbringer.
Devil and Angel.
Which was the real him?
If Chloe had asked herself that months ago, her answer would of been immediate, but now she knows better, because both sides were what made Lucifer, Lucifer. It wasn't fair of her to compare the two, because they were of the same person, she understands that now.
If only she had understood sooner.
The sound of her front door opening and closing, is what drags Chloe out of her musings. Detective instincts kicking in, instantaneously. She slowly angles her body - making sure not to put too much pressure on the springs, as to not alert her intruder that she is in fact, awake - using the entire length of her arm to grab the gun that was hidden underneath the bedside drawer.
She detaches it from its socket, and ever so carefully - using her right hand to balance her weight - lifts herself up into a seated position, before turning at the waist and planting her feet slowly onto the wooden floor.
She cautiously uses her tiptoes to take her body weight as she makes use of the walls that separate her view of the living room, and Chloe thanks - well, not God - someone, that Trixie is with Dan tonight. As she reaches the stairs, her leg muscles straining slightly having to support her weight as she ever so carefully lowers herself onto each step - in hopes of not causing her wooden stairs to creak - and she briefly releases a sigh of relief when she is successful.
Chloe darts her eyes around the living room, scanning for any sign of danger. The sound of crackling from the logs, currently burning in her fireplace, causes her to turn her head in its direction, and she can see - through narrowed eyes - the slight silhouette of a head, which failed in being concealed by the back of her couch.
She takes a calming breath, before setting her jaw, fingers tightening on the gun, moving in the direction of the unknown guest that was currently in her house. Chloe reaches the back of the couch unnoticed, and crouches behind it. She then - ever so slowly - places her right hand on the floor, the left clutching the gun, supporting her weight and moves to the back of the couch's arm.
Still hearing nothing she presumes that she hasn't been spotted, and Chloe closes her eyes for a moment, preparing herself for whatever comes next. Using the back of her heels to support her now, Chloe opens her eyes - counting to three in her head, as she does - and shoots up from her crouched position to a standing one. She opens her mouth - a demand of "who are you?" on the tip of her tongue - only for said question to die a quick and merciful death.
Are you kidding me?
"Sup' Decker." Maze greets, sprawled on her couch, her head resting on top of it, leather fitted pants stretched out and crossed in front of her, a bottle of vodka in hand.
What the fuck?
With the last of her vigilance gone, Chloe lowers her gun - safety on - and puts it on the table next to another bottle of vodka - why is she not surprised? - that she bets Maze found in the cabinet that Chloe doubts is secure anymore. She crosses her arms for a moment, looking unamused with her eyebrow raised, as she looks between the bottles of vodka - the one on the table and the one currently in Maze's hand, the person in question drinking it like its water - before she moves, sitting down next to her, a comfortable distance between them.
"Why are you here, Maze?" she asks, the metaphorical burn on her tongue allowing it to slip out without her consent.
Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Maze taking a few more sips - gulps - of vodka, before resting it in her lap once more. It's silent between them for a moment - her staring at the still burning logs, whilst Maze is licking the aftertaste of vodka from her lips - before it shatters.
"I went to see Lucifer," she states, bluntly.
How is he?, is what nearly passes the space between her lips, but Chloe has quickly learned from her resent slip up and instead presses them more firmly together.
"Oh." is what comes out instead.
"Aren't you gonna ask why, Decker?" she questions, perfectly split eyebrow raised, moving from her slouched position, to a commanding one, copying Chloe's current stance as she rests her forearms on her knees, vodka bottle dangling from her fingers as she turns her head to look in Chloe's direction.
"No," her reply coming out faster than she'd like but, it wasn't a lie. She doesn't want hear about his sexual adventures with Eve. "besides, I already know the answer to that." she continues, before Maze can dig in to deep.
"Really?" Maze questions, doubt practically pouring from her lips, similar to the vodka that was recently travelling down her throat with ease. Chloe now turns her head to look at Maze, the arch of her eyebrow on her deadpanned face is what greets her. "Well, obviously for an orgy."
Because that was the most reasonable of explanations.
She's surprised though when Maze barks out a humourless laugh, the sound contrasting with the silence of the night.
"As if," she says, rolling her eyes so hard that Chloe fears for a moment that they might pop out of her sockets. "he hasn't had a decent orgy in years, but as soon as Miss. Sinner comes along, he Fifty Shades of betrays me." she concludes, and Chloe can hear genuine hurt underneath the surface.
"Why did you go see him then?" Chloe asks, because she just can't keep it in much longer. She wants to know. She needs to know.
Maze stares at her for a moment, the decision to tell her or not, swirling in her eyes, before her features harden and answers. "Because I know you two haven't been right after... well, you know. I went to see if I could knock some sense into him to - I don't know - repair your friendship, or whatever the hell you two are."
Desperation sinks its teeth into her skin and she can't help but ask, "What did he say?"
A hope blossoming within her that he still feels something other than partnership or friendship towards her.
Only for said hope to shatter at Maze's reply.
"Nothing. Barely noticed I was there, actually," and Chloe suddenly doesn't want to know the rest, she can guess why exactly Lucifer was so distracted.
Unfortunately, karma seemed to love biting her in the ass. "he was too busy with his tongue down Eve's thro-" Maze cuts herself off suddenly, saving her from the humiliation, and for that Chloe is thankful.
She lifts her eyes to see a look of compassion and concern on Maze's face - two emotions that are rarely seen on the hell-forged blade loving demon - and Chloe smiles slightly at her awareness, despite the fact that the demon in question isn't one for feelings.
"You know what? Never mind. The point is, you two need to make up." Now this... this Chloe didn't see coming. She's pretty sure - absolute - that her disbelief - mixed with a dash of shock, because why not? - is practically plastered on her face because, the moment their eyes connect, Maze rolls her eyes - more gently, this time - before leaning forward, putting her now empty bottle of vodka on the table, only to pick up its twin that still rests next to her gun.
"Why?", the question slipping past her lips before Chloe realizes.
What is it with her mouth today?
Maze uses her teeth to pull off the cap of the bottle, spitting it into the bowl that rests in the centre of the table, before she answers. "Because its been months - eight, actually - of this constant back and forth awkward tension between you two, and I have had it up to here with the both of you," she takes a mouthful of alcohol before continuing. "Linda and Ellen, too."
"Wait. Linda and Ella know?", well that's just fan-fucking-tastic, isn't it?
Maze suddenly pauses in taking another sip, before cradling the bottle between her hands and dangling said bottle between her legs, turning her head, once again, in Chloe's direction. "Well, duh!. You haven't exactly been - what people call - discreet, Decker."
Was she really that conspicuous?
"Well, what do you want me to say?" she asks, because what could she say?
They're silent for a moment, staring at each other to see who will break first. Maze soon yields - it was obvious she had allowed Chloe her victory - and looks at her as if the answer was simple. "Apologize."
What the fuck does she think she's been doing over these past few months? Sitting on her ass doing nothing? Apologizing is all Chloe seems to be doing.
"And say what, Maze?" her anger getting the better of her. "That I'm sorry for nearly killing you? That I know I fucked up and have destroyed any chance of a possible us? That I want you to choose me, to be with me instead of her? That I lo-"
Chloe cuts herself off suddenly, snapping her traitorous mouth shut, swallowing her tongue.
She cannot believe her luck tonight. She had no right to confess her love for him - well, almost anyway - not after what she'd done. What she'd nearly done.
Maze is silent beside her, the crackling of the logs the only sound in this room filled with clarities and confessions, before putting the bottle next to its twin on the table. She turns her full body in Chloe's direction, hands clasped, face baring a wisdom so rarely seen on her face. "... Do you remember when I told you about Linda all those months ago? About how she handled Lucifer better than you ever could?", she awaits Chloe's nod before continuing. “I was wrong." Maze admits, and Chloe feels the beginnings of pride spread throughout her chest from how far her friend has come, how much she's grown.
Clearing her throat, she continues. "By that I mean, that it was wrong of me to say that to you. Anybody who is graced with knowledge of divinity, handles it in their own - unique - way. I didn't understand that at first." she takes a deep breath. "After I said... well.... what I said, I went to Linda's to talk," that's putting it mildly. "and she made me realize that you and her.... you are completely different. You handle it on your own terms, at your own pace."
Maze is silent for a moment, and Chloe is led to believe that she has said what she wishes to say, only to be proven incorrect when she speaks again. "I also realized, that by comparing your reaction to Linda's... I was being unfair to you... and I think the same can be said for Lucifer."
Just when she thought her friend couldn't surprise her further. "I'm in no way saying that you didn't screw up or that what you did is ok, Decker," Maze clarifies, making sure she understands.
She does.
Awkwardness practically oozes out of Maze's pours as she continues. "but... you're not completely in the wrong, and for that..." she pauses, gazing into the flames currently dancing on the wood, the glow of it highlighting the features of her face, and Chloe swears for a moment she sees a conflagration swirl within her eyes, before she blinks, extinguishing it. "I'm sorry."
As Chloe looks into Maze's eyes, she can see the genuineness within them. They let the invisible threads of their friendship stitch itself back together, and with it a deserved apology. "I'm sorry too, Maze."
It feels good to finally say the words to her, but its not enough, will never be enough.
Not for her.
"Maze, I'm so sorry. What I did to you... to Lucifer, it was - is - unforgivable."
She knows that an apology won't fix everything, but to hear Maze's, "Apology accepted, Decker" allows her to breath a little bit easier.
The weight on her shoulders less soul destroying, now more of an ache that causes her muscles to shake.
"Well, that's one apology down, another one to go." Maze states, breaking the comfortable silence that had surrounded them.
Chloe sighs.
"Maze, I already told you, there is nothing I could say that would make him forgive me." she says miserably, the ache in her muscles just that bit heavier, but before Chloe has a chance to allow her self-hatred to consume her, the sight of Maze's face adorning a grin catches her attention, and Chloe feels a shiver of dread unexpectantly crawl up her spine from the glint in her eye.
"Who said anything about talking, Decker?"
***
He's happy.
Or at least... he should be.
Over the past few months, Lucifer doesn't think there's anything he hasn't done - sexually or otherwise - and he can't take all the credit. The woman that was currently sleeping in the afterglow of their many, many rounds of exquisite pleasure, the cause as to why he has changed so drastically, and he's never been happier.
At least... that's what he thought. After his and Eve's relationship had hit the five month mark, he had began to feel... well, he doesn't know.
Bored?
Uncertain?
Unhappy?
There was a thought that began to niggle at the back of his mind, telling him that although his desire for a relationship - for acceptance - was a genuine one... it wasn't Eve he desired that connection with.
The images of her replaced by a taller, leaner silhouette. Her hair turning from the most adumbral of shades to the most delicious of honeys, her curves carved into muscle from constantly being on her feet all day and who's said feet were hidden underneath her sensible brown shoes. Onyx eyes, replaced by the most gorgeous of blues, the pigment of them changing, depending on the emotions swirling from within. Lips turning from the boldest of reds to the most kissable of pinks, attached to a face he could spend an eternity admiring.
He's not stupid. He knows what - or rather, who - he desires but, she had done the unthinkable... when it came to their relationship anyway.
She had taken their trust - his trust - for granted and instead turned a blind eye to what they have - sorry, what he thought they had - and manipulated him into thinking that they were ok... only to have the rose tinted glasses peeled from his eyes to discover that he was the butt of the joke in the end.
Don't get him wrong - even though it's been months - Lucifer is slowly but, gradually forgiving the Detective.
But... he doesn't think it will repair what has been broken.
A moan from beside him suddenly draws his attention back to the woman that was battling her need for continuous sleep, her chocolate eyes revealing themselves under her black lashes, hair surrounding her in a halo, the darkened colour of his sheets contrasting with her milky skin, only covering her from the waist down, giving him a full view of her delicious spine that ran from her shoulder blades to the dimples of her ass.
He draws his eyes back to her face and turns on his left side, facing her, supporting his head in his hand, while he smirks down at her, a devilish glint in his eye. She returns his devilish glee with a smirk of her own, and quickly swings her leg around his hips, her hands on his chest, fingers spread, red polished nails slightly digging into the skin there.
She leans down - running the palms of her hands upwards as she does - stopping when their lips are a hair's breath away. "What time is it?" Eve asks, breathless, hopeful that they have time for at least one more round.
He looks at the clock that rests at the side of his bed, and sees that they barely have enough time before the party at Lux begins downstairs and he refuses to acknowledge the fact that he is not disappointed that he won't have time do indulge in another round with Eve.
Lucifer turns his head towards the woman currently straddling his hips, and was - he didn't notice until now - biting and nipping at his neck and chest, and usually, he would be extremely turned on by now, but instead he feels a sudden urge to turn away from her, to stop her from leaving permanent marks on his skin - until his supernatural healing kicks in at least - almost as if...
He doesn't want to bare her marks.
Shaking himself out of his sudden realization, he quickly - but, gently - grabs Eve's hips and moves her off of him, before turning away from her and throwing the covers off his person, retreating from the bed. He can see Eve looking at him in confusion from the corner of his eye, before his walk-in closet obstructs him from her view. He focuses his attention on his many suits to keep his mind off his earlier revelatory moment, deciding on his black Prada suit, with a black dress shirt, the ensemble completed with a devilish red pocket square.
Whilst looking in the full-body mirror, adjusting his collar, he hears footsteps approaching where he stands, the sound increasing, before it is silent once more. There is nothing momentarily, until he feels a pressure resting on his shoulder blade, and he can't help the twitch in his muscle from the memory of a stronger, more calloused hand resting there.
"Luce," Eve says slowly, pondering whether she should continue, before she does. "are you ok?"
He feels her hand run slowly from his shoulder blade to his spine, resting where his now unseen scars ended, and Lucifer can't help but take a slight step forward to stop her from caressing it with her thumb. He gives himself a moment, before turning his head slightly so as to see her reflection in the mirror, fake smile in place, one he has learned to perfect for eons. "I'm fine, darling."
He hopes - he never has been one to pray - that that was convincing enough but, looking at Eve - who's arms were crossed as she shifted her weight onto one foot, the length of the sleeves from his red silk robe, enveloping her hands with her eyebrow raised in annoyance - he thinks not.
"You sure?", she doesn't wait for his reply. "because one minute you seem fine, and then the next, you practically throw me off of you in order to get as far away from me as possible."
He rolls his eyes at her. That's a bit dramatic, isn't it?
"Don't be absurd, and I did not throw you." he raises his hands and uses his two pointer and middle fingers to make quotation marks. "as you so kindly put it."
He looks away from her for a moment, before returning his gaze once more, where he can see her reflection in the mirror. "It's just that... we have a party to attend to downstairs, and I need to be there for the opening."
That wasn't a lie, he did need to attend the party for the opening, it was his role as the owner to give his patrons a sense of comfort when they entered his domain before they indulged in their many sinful pleasures... it just wasn't the whole truth.
"Bullshit.", is the reply he is given.
"Excuse me?" he demands, her all knowing attitude starting to piss him off.
"You heard me.”
With a visible roll of his eyes, Lucifer returns to his current task of readjusting his collar, unbuttoning the ones at the top, allowing the slight skin of his chest to make an appearance, the look causing him to appear more devilish.
It's silent for a moment and Lucifer feels a sensation one would call relief, well up in his chest, only for Eve's - now annoying - voice to completely shatter it. "Since when do you give a shit if you miss the opening to a party?"
"Since - last I checked - I was the owner of Lux, Eve." he states, through gritted teeth, his patience waring thin.
This isn't the first time in their relationship they've done this: Eve questioning his actions, comparing them to the "Devil she met in the Garden", wondering why he acted so differently, which - without fail - filled his ego and pride to prove to her that he was that guy, even though deep down, he knew "that guy" wasn't him anymore, only for them to resolve their issues in the only way they knew how: sex.
Its not that he doesn't enjoy being with her - on the contrary, she was the one who barely flinched when he revealed his Devil face to her for the first time, who instead of retreating back in fear, approached with a love in her eyes he didn't deserve, who accepted him when Ch-... when she didn't.
He’s grateful for her - thankful, even - but... he just doesn't feel what he did a few months prior for her anymore.
How the thrill of being with Eve would overwhelm him, only now leaving him currently numb, how her contagious laughter, causes a longing within him for the dulcet tones of another, how the desire that filled his being when seeing her naked silhouette tangled in his bed sheets, made him realize that the desire he felt would never compare to the solace and security when in the Detective's proximity.
"What happened to you, Luce?" Eve's voice breaking him of his thoughts, bringing him to the present once more. With one last look in the mirror, he gives a nod of approval toward his reflection, before turning around, his vision filled with the view of the Original Sinner.
"What do you mean?" he asks, as confused as he sounds, eyebrow raised, a frown forming on his face. He can see Eve's fingers - which were currently clenching the material of his robe's sleeves - tighten, almost to the point where Lucifer fears that she will rip the substance apart.
A scowl makes its way onto her face, teeth clenched, before she replies.
"What do I mean?" she says, imitating his accent, the action causing an anger to boil within him. "What I mean, is that I haven't seen you all day - because as soon as she gives you a call, you obey as if you’re her own personal fucking lap dog - and now that we finally have a chance to be alone, you'd rather get plastered out of your mind tonight than spend it with me. Your girlfriend."
How. Fucking. Dare. She.
"I don't mind your smartass remarks, Eve" he begins, his voice dangerously soft, as he allows the silence to fill the space between them. "But talk to me like that again," he continues, taking a step towards her as he does, taking pleasure in the way she instinctively takes a step away from him. "then my girlfriend you'll no longer be."
The silence - once again - greets them like an old friend as they continue to stare at each other, onyx eyes connecting, waiting to see what the other will do, confirming that there is an understanding between them, before Eve lowers her eyes - disconnecting their silent conversation - before she turns around, walking away from him, the end of his robe dragging on the floor - and although his floors are waxed and polished, he still cringes at the sight - only for her to stop at the end of the walk-in closet's entrance, her head tilted to the side, letting him know that he is being addressed.
"I'll meet you downstairs." and with that said, Eve continues her retreat, the sound of footsteps, the only acknowledgment of her presence, before he hears his bathroom door open and close, and the silence penetrates the room once again.
He stands there for a moment, allowing himself this, before he lets out a sigh he didn't know needed release, and makes his way towards the elevator.
***
As predicted, the club is insane tonight.
Bodies surrounding him, desperate to discover every nook and cranny they could find, every dark corner, every concealed space, where sins would be indulged with a lust that burned so bright.
He takes in his surroundings - an admiration in his eye - before making his way to the top of the stairs that lead to the club down below. As Lucifer makes his decent, his eyes catch a group of women that he was well-acquainted with, and decides to make his way over to greet them.
Once arriving at his destination, he makes his presence known to the women who hadn't acknowledged him until now.
"Doctor, Miss. Lopez, Maze." he says, with a nod of his head in the direction of each woman, a grin making its way onto his face.
"Not that I'm not thrilled to have you here, but - if you don't mind me asking - what are you doing here on this fine evening?" he questions, eyebrow raised as he looks across the table, eyeing the women before him separately, only to see said women look at each other with a worry and panic in their eyes - well, Linda and Ella, anyway - Maze was currently chugging down a bottle of vodka, which she no doubt stole from the bar - licking her lips to savour the taste, before she answers.
"We're here for moral support." a grin making its way onto her face, with a glint in her eye that she gets when she knows something he does not.
Interest peaked, Lucifer leans on the table with both hands supporting his weight, towering over his demon - who was watching him with an unimpressed look on her face - his grin growing, stretching at the edges, causing him to appear quite sinister.
"And would you care to share with the class, Mazikeen?" a taunt concealed behind his cool and carefree demeanour.
Maze looks at him from her slouched position on the club's lounger chair, her smirk never wavering, before she leans forward with her head to answer his question.
"You'll just have to wait and see, Satan." she teases, before returning to her task of downing the remainder of vodka that was currently swirling in the bottle.
Frustrated with his lack of answers - not to mention his current confusion from the answers he did receive - Lucifer wishes the good Doctor and Miss. Lopez a pleasant evening - ignoring Mazikeen's presence - before making his way to the bar.
He barely sits his ass on the barstool, before a tumbler of whiskey slides across the bar top into his hand. Lucifer wraps his fingers around the outskirts of the glass, before lifting it in thanks toward his bartender Patrick, who nodded his head in acknowledgment whilst cleaning the glass that was currently in his hands with a rag.
The music from the speakers sends a vibration throughout his body that he does not appreciate at the moment, so - as a way to distract himself - he looks into the alcohol that swirls in a circular motion in the glass that rest delicately in his hands... only for his attention to be broken by the voice of his girlfriend.
"Hey, Luce." Eve greets, shyly.
She sits herself onto the bar stool beside him, and he can practically taste the awkwardness between them. He continues to stare at his drink - not particularly fond of the idea of getting into another fight with her at the moment - and if he's being honest, he just wants to be left alone but, there has been a burning question that has laid dormant on his tongue for months, and now feels like a better time than any to discuss it with her.
"Eve," he begins, the word spoken ever so softly. He can see, out of the corner of his eye, the way she immediately focuses all her attention onto him, and he hates that. He never wanted that, and he can't help but feel responsible.
She waits patiently for him to continue - fingers linked together - before he takes a deep breath and asks. "Why don't you hate me?"
The question out in the open for all to hear, only... nobody can hear, not with the music that was practically blasting out of the club's speakers. He doesn't look at her as he asks, but he can clearly see the way Eve's features scrunch up in confusion, and he would go as far as to say that it was adorable, if not for the situation they were currently in.
"What do you mean?" she asks, confusion clear as day. He doesn't answer for a moment, allowing the peace to settle between them, before he continues with his earlier statement.
"Well, I hurt you. I used you," he states, the octaves of his voice raising slightly, as he lists all the things he himself had knowingly allowed himself to do, and she herself deciding not to acknowledge.
"No. Y-you didn't... you-“ Eve stutters, shaking her head, battling with her own denial, the truth of their relationship something they simply could not ignore any longer.
"I did." he interrupts, before continuing, "deep down, I knew it wasn't going to work, but I strung you along anyway for my own selfish wants," he explains, his voice becoming just a tad bit stronger, as he feels the beginnings of self-hatred well up in his chest.
He finally turns his head towards Eve - who's head was still shaking slightly in denial, blinded by her love for him - and asks her again. "Why don't you hate me?"
It's silent once more - or as silent as it can be in a nightclub - both feeling a desperation birthed from different reasons - him for her answer, her for this conversation to come to an end - but both still wait patiently, despite said desperation.
He can see Eve struggle with her answer for a moment, before a determination settles upon her features. "Because I love you."
The silence suffocates them in this room filled with red, as they continue to stare at each other, before he leans forward slightly and answers her declaration of love.
"Well, you shouldn't." he says, because it's true. No one should love the Devil, no one could love the Devil, no one did love the Devil.
Love just wasn't in the cards for him.
He didn't consider himself an expert on the subject of love, but he knew enough to know that what him and Eve had wasn't born out of love, but of lust and that's where it could get dangerous, this he understands now.
He no longer sees Eve sat beside him, so he interprets that she made her way back to the penthouse, and he feels an emotion that he has become familiar with over the years, swirl within his chest: Guilt.
Sighing, Lucifer looks down at his hands that were now coated in red, thanks to the lights that hung above the ceiling, and if he stared hard enough, he could trick his mind into thinking it was his Devil form making an appearance.
Suddenly, the red that once filled the room, now shines a darker, more tranquil blue, the music that was once blasting through the speakers, now contrasting with the current silence that suffocates the room, and Lucifer is left confused momentarily, before the angelic voice of the woman he had seen earlier today, echoes throughout the club.
"This is for a special guy... a grand gesture to help... redefine things, I guess."