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Chloe hears the rapid knocking at her apartment door and the click of the latch as Trixie opens it only dimly. Like it’s something far away, happening somewhere else. Her fresh misery commands her attention, now. The sharp pain of offering her heart to a man only to once again have it ground under an uncaring heel as he turned and ran for the exit. She stares blankly into the fireplace, vision blurred with tears, and registers the familiar tread of expensive shoes on the floor behind her.
How did he know? She wonders. Why is he never here when she wants him these days, and yet now he shows up when she’s at her worst?
Lucifer’s footsteps come to a halt not far from the doorway, and Chloe knows he must be looking at her, but she refuses to turn to face him. Let him look, she thinks. His perfect Detective, never to be touched一by him or anyone else—laid low yet again. That’ll teach her for wanting something more.
After a moment, she hears him turn on his heel and stride rapidly towards the door again.
“Wait,” the word escapes her before she realizes it. Her voice sounds small and pitiable, and she hates it. Chloe turns around to look at him. Lucifer is frozen by the door, looking even worse than he did earlier that day, if that’s possible. Uncharacteristically disheveled, one stray shirttail sticking out from under his vest, eyes red with fatigue. Very red. It’s probably the firelight, but it almost looks like they’re glowing with rage. “Stay, please,” she whispers.
His mouth moves inarticulately for a moment before his speaks. “Cai一Pierce hurt you,” he says gruffly, as if that’s an explanation for why he needs to leave.
Chloe’s eyes dart to Trixie, who stands wide-eyed beside Lucifer, looking back and forth between them. “It’s late, Monkey. You should be in bed.”
Trixie casts a wary glance at Lucifer. “I can stay up if you need me, Mom.”
“I’ll be okay.” Chloe gives a watery smile. She hates that her daughter feels the need to protect her. “Make sure you have your homework packed up for school tomorrow.”
Trixie nods solemnly and walks around the couch to hug her before giving Lucifer one last warning look as she retreats to her bedroom. Chloe sighs and wipes at her wet eyes with her palm. When her vision clears, Lucifer is standing beside her, swaying a little unsteadily. He goes to pull out his handkerchief and stares dumbly at his breast pocket when he realizes it’s gone missing.
“Where the…” he mumbles, before staggering over to the armchair opposite her and collapsing into it. “Bloody useless.”
What a pair they make, Chloe thinks. Or could have made, if he were ever willing to take the next step.
“I want to ask you a question,” Chloe says abruptly.
“Fire away,” Lucifer replies wearily, rubbing his eyes with one hand.
Chloe knows she’ll regret this tomorrow, knows it might ruin their friendship, but the blazing fire of hurt and indignation inside her overrides her better judgement.
“What is it about me that’s so repellent? Why am I so disgusting to every man I’m around? Why is the thought of a relationship with me so…so fucking awful that I can’t get anyone to even take a chance on it?” She feels fresh tears welling behind her eyes despite her best efforts.
Lucifer’s hand drops from his face and he stares at her, aghast. For a few moments, he can’t do anything but splutter. “Detective, that’s the most…the most utterly preposterous question I’ve ever heard—”
“See?” Chloe holds up a hand as if presenting him as an exhibit. “There it is. Great example. ‘Detective.’ Gotta draw that line, right, Lucifer? Can’t be too familiar. Keep her at arm’s length.”
“Det—Chloe—that’s not. You know that’s not what it means.” He looks at her pleadingly.
Chloe almost feels guilty she’s making him have this conversation now. He’s so exhausted that his usual eloquence has gone completely out of the window. Good, she thinks, viciously. He won’t be able to weasel his way out of it with his silver tongue. Lucifer leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees, scrubbing his hands through his wild hair.
“Chloe,” he begins again after a beat, choosing his words deliberately. “You’re the loveliest, bravest, cleverest woman I’ve ever known. Any man with half a brain who you choose to…to be with should be falling over himself with gratitude.”
Despite herself, Chloe’s traitorous heart lurches at that. God, she thought she was more over him than this.
Lucifer stares into her eyes and seems to become lost a little, his words beginning to meander. “Any man should thank his stars that he could be allowed to be…to be a part of your life. To be able to spend his days with you, and the urchin. Is the greatest gift an unworthy sod could ever be given.”
Bitter tears have begun to spill down Chloe’s cheeks again. “Then why didn’t you ever take it?” she whispers.
“I don’t deserve it,” he mumbles, burying his face in his hands. She wishes he would have the balls to look at her. “You deserve better.”
“What does that even mean?” she bites out, voice trembling with rage, doing everything in her power not to scream. “I deserve Dan lying to me for months instead? Or I deserve Marcus running for the hills the moment I get the tiniest bit serious?”
Lucifer’s eyes fix on hers, wide with naked desperation for her to understand…something. “I am poison, Chloe. I know you don’t believe me, but trust that I am trying to protect you. From becoming another pawn.”
“A pawn of your father.”
“Yes,” he hisses.
”Just like you were on this last case, right? He was ‘making’ you save people’s lives.” She scoffs.
“Well—no—in this case, it turns out was just Maze, but previously—”
Chloe leans back into the couch and wipes her eyes again, fed up with this. “You know what? I don’t really care. I’m sorry, I know that’s not the supportive partner thing to say, but I just don’t. You refuse to explain it to me in a way that makes any sense, and I’m done with it. And honestly, I don’t understand how we ended up talking about you again.”
For a long while, there’s nothing but the dull, quiet roar of the gas fireplace and the mechanical whirr of the ice maker in her freezer kicking on.
“Tell me what happened,” Lucifer says gently.
Chloe lets out a shuddering sigh. “It was all going fine. He brought over cake for Trixie because I wanted to introduce them. And I started to tell him how much I liked being with him, and一” Chloe glances up at Lucifer almost guiltily. It feels like a betrayal to say it, but it’s the truth, and there’s nothing he values more than that. “I tried to tell him that…that I loved him.”
Lucifer stiffens, eyes closing and mouth drawing downwards, but doesn’t react otherwise.
“But he stopped me before I could,” Chloe continues. “And he practically ran out. ‘I can’t do this,’ he said. Like the prospect of me loving him was that awful!” She lets out a shuddering sigh.
“What do you wish me to do?” Lucifer asks, spreading his hands in supplication. “Beating him to a bloody pulp is still on the table.”
Chloe sniffles and looks down at her own hands, twisting a tissue in her lap. She thinks back to a fuzzy, drunken memory of falling asleep on Lucifer’s shoulder, his scent and the pleasant weight of his arm surrounding her. It had been years since she’d felt so safe. She’s embarrassed to ask, but god knows both of them have had much more dignified nights. What’s one more humiliation to add to the pile? “Could you just, um, hold me?”
He looks dumbstruck for a moment, but after a dazed pause, he nods. “Of一of course. Yes.” He climbs to his feet inelegantly, looking for once more gangly than dashing, and shuffles around the coffee table to sit on the couch beside her. He extends one arm tentatively, offering her a place, and she scoots over to him, awkwardly propping herself against his side, her hands still clasped tightly in her own lap. She can feel her shoulder bones jabbing sharply into his armpit. His hand flutters at her other shoulder for a moment before lightly touching her. Not resting, not relaxed, trying not to impose.
Chloe hates it. How was this so much easier when she was drunk?
“Is this what you wanted?” Lucifer whispers after a few silent, uncomfortable minutes.
“No, it’s awful,” Chloe replies. Unexpectedly, both of them laugh in unison. It’s a brief laugh, tasting of tears, but Lucifer’s hand tightens on her arm, and her head rolls to rest beneath his chin, where she can hear the rich sound of his mirth vibrating through his chest, and suddenly it’s enough. She’s still safe here, she thinks. Even if he will not or cannot be with her the way she wants him to, at least she has this, now. And the floodgates open again, and suddenly she’s sobbing uncontrollably into his wrinkled designer suit.
“Oh, darling,” he murmurs, and shushes her gently, warm hand rubbing slowly up and down her arm. And there’s something about that term of endearment that strikes her heart like an arrow. It’s not a cheeky Britishism here, now一it feels like he let it slip out despite himself, warm and rounded with deep affection.
Her tears last for long minutes until they finally begin to abate into little hiccuping sobs. Chloe fiddles with a button on Lucifer’s vest. She thinks he must be dozing beside her, because his hand has stilled and his arm lies heavy and comforting over her shoulders and his breathing is deep and steady. It’s probably only because she thinks he’s asleep that she musters the courage to say what she’s thinking.
“What if we pretended, just for tonight?”
His breath catches abruptly in his throat. Chloe doesn’t dare to look up at his face and risk having to watch him reject her again.
“What?”
“It was stupid. Sorry. I thought you were asleep,” she mutters, but when she starts to withdraw her hand from where it rests on his stomach, he catches it.
“What are you asking?” His voice is deeper and rougher now. Behind it, there’s an edge of…something.
Despite herself, she peers up into his face. His eyes are black in the dim light, and the sleep-deprived circles beneath them make them seem larger than normal. Together with the locks of hair falling loose across his forehead, they give the impression of a wild creature, something feral, desperate, hungry.
Chloe gathers her courage. “What if you loved me tonight?”
His mouth collides with hers before she knows what’s happening. It’s rough and messy and tastes of stale coffee, but it sets her body on fire. A moment after she gets her bearings and tries to reciprocate, he pulls away just as suddenly.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he gasps, running a shaking hand over his face. “I drifted off, and I must have been dreaming. I thought you said一”
“Love me tonight,” she repeats. A plea.
Lucifer stares at her, slack-jawed. “You really want—”
Chloe presses her fingers to his lips and smiles ruefully. “Can we not talk? I feel like if we talk, we’ll ruin it.” Lucifer nods mutely, eyes wide. Chloe untangles herself from him and gets to her feet. “We should probably go upstairs.” She nods in the direction of Trixie’s room by way of explanation.
Lucifer gets up unsteadily and trails after her as she climbs the stairs. His eyes are wide as if he half-believes he’s dreaming, still, and is in awe of the fantastical things around him. Chloe has never seen someone look at the doorknob of her bathroom door, where two freshly-laundered sports bras are hanging to dry, with such reverence.
Chloe leads Lucifer into her bedroom and shuts the door softly behind them. She turns to him and finds that he's looking around the room with a strange, almost childlike wonder. She takes a steadying breath and then pulls her shirt off with one smooth movement, not trying to watch Lucifer’s reaction too much as she sets to unbuttoning her jeans. She’s not wearing anything particularly fancy or sexy, and she knows her eyes and nose must be red and swollen from crying. And her body is a far cry from its Hot Tub High School days, no matter how fit she tries to stay.
He’s frozen for a moment, but then he fumbles to follow her lead, shedding his jacket and then setting uncharacteristically clumsy fingers to the task of unbuttoning his many buttons.
Chloe is stripped down to her underwear by the time he wrestles his vest off, and he glances up at her with a longing sigh as he tears at the buttons on his shirt. “I’m not at my best,” he murmurs mournfully.
“We have that in common,” she replies gently, stepping forward to help him with his remaining buttons.
He’s still beautiful, she thinks as she peels off his shirt. All smooth, lean muscle and tan skin. Even exhausted and unkempt, he manages to be the stuff of wet dreams. Hers, in particular. It’s enough, even if it’s just for tonight, she tells herself, knowing full well what a damned lie it is.
“May I?” Lucifer whispers, hands hovering at her sides.
She nods, and he caresses paths along her arms, her neck, her back, her waist, eventually unhooking her bra in one seamless motion and letting it fall slowly off her breasts. He stares at her greedily for a long time, tracing his thumbs in lazy circles around her stiffening nipples. She shivers.
“Chilly?” he asks, with a hint of his usual cheekiness.
”A little.”
“Can’t have that.” He wraps his arms around her and kisses her so deeply she can feel it in her toes, liquid heat running through her. His tongue presses into her mouth and tangles wickedly with hers, and before Chloe knows it, the edge of her mattress is bumping into the backs of her knees. Lucifer releases her, and she sits down heavily, not sure she can trust her legs. He stumbles back a half a pace and focuses on unfastening his belt and trousers. When they finally fall to the floor, what normally (she imagines) is Lucifer’s Big Reveal falls sadly flat, as he’s barely half-hard.
Lucifer blinks blearily at himself, aghast. “Detective, I swear this is not normal,” he babbles. “Usually, I’m stiff as a board by now, and一”
Chloe stifles a laugh and cuts him off. “It’s totally normal, Lucifer.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, I could take just a brief power nap, and then—”
Chloe grips him, and his mouth snaps shut. “I would mind,” she says, stroking his gradually hardening length. Lucifer moans, and suddenly all she can think about is how to get him to make that sound again. She pulls him down onto the bed with her, shoving a pile of unfolded laundry onto the floor to make room. For a while, they just kiss and clutch at each other, nothing between them but small, soft noises and the sticky heat of skin on skin, the taste of her tears still fresh on her lips.
Chloe wonders distantly if they could stay here forever, disappear into each other and forget about all the reasons why they shouldn’t be together. They can forget about the pain and heartache between them and start over. Maybe it’s as simple as that. Maybe his weird delusions and anxieties will fade away and they can just be them. The them that feels so good when they’re on the same page.
Lucifer’s erection nudges insistently against her belly, now, and she briefly considers trying to find a condom, but fuck it. Nothing matters tonight, and if she gets up, the pleasant illusion could fade away. The cold light of logic might butt in, for either of them. They could ruin it, just like they always have before.
So instead, Chloe hitches her leg over his and guides him inside her. Lucifer’s breath catches and his fingers tighten where they grip her, then his hips drive forward almost compulsively, causing both of them to gasp in unison. Chloe pulls back just far enough to look into his eyes, and the intensity of the emotion there makes her want to cry again, or maybe laugh with joy. Instead, she just kisses him.
They move together like one being, a writhing tangle of limbs. Chloe clutches at the back of his head and he grips her hips, driving forward to bury himself in her again and again.
“Chloe,” he groans, stubble scraping against her neck. “I-I don’t think I’m going to last.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she gasps in reply, lips finding the curve of his ear. “I’m close.” She goes to touch herself, but he beats her to it, long fingers working artlessly but quickly against her clit, and that’s more than enough to send her over, shaking and clenching around him, eyes screwed shut.
Lucifer’s strangled cry sounds almost like pain as he follows her seconds later, his final few thrusts bruising in their intensity. Chloe holds him tight as he trembles against her, and wonders if she’s ever been so close to someone, and yet knew they were still out of reach.
She keeps her eyes closed afterwards as long as she can, trying to stay in this moment with him as their breathing slows and the sweat cools on their bodies. Lucifer’s limbs are dead weight around her, and Chloe realizes when she finally cracks open her eyes that he’s fallen asleep. He certainly needs it, she thinks, carefully extricating herself from his grasp and padding to her bathroom to clean up. Note to self: get some Plan B tomorrow. And maybe an STD panel.
When she returns to bed, she eases the covers out from under the now softly snoring Lucifer and climbs in beside him, head propped up on one arm to regard him. He lies on his stomach, head turned towards her, allowing her to admire his profile. He’s very beautiful like this, she thinks. Almost pretty enough to believe he really is an angel. Her fingers trace the smooth planes of his back.
Smooth…
Smooth, unblemished back…
“No, that’s where I cut my wings off. Well, I didn’t. Maze did. I told her to.”
“It’s my wings. They’re back.”
“What the fuck?” Chloe whispers.