Actions

Work Header

Purgatory

Chapter Text

You’d always wanted to own a bakery. A warm, opening little cafe, a kind staff, regulars. Maybe a bookstore. You even took business classes. Thousands of dollars.
And here you were, in the heart of L.A, loud electronic music pounding through the club speakers. EXIT was the most successful thing you’d ever done. Some people did call it a bakery, but not for the right reasons.
You laughed. Puffs of smoke wafted through the air. Alcohol, California low-lifes, and hot blondes mingled with upper-class billionaires and men over 40. What a magical place. Here, everyone was the same.
The view from your office was glorious. Whiskey in hand, you looked out through the glass wall that faced the dance floor and lounge. Sparkling grey tile glittered, flattering the stringy, white chandler that hung from the tall ceiling. Every blue-suede seat was filled, and the raised dance floor was packed. Nearly every bar seat was filled with a drunk. The second story landing had a few souls on it, glasses in hands, heads bobbing to the music that thrummed around the room. When EXIT was empty, it had wonderful acoustics. Perhaps the vacant space could’ve served as something more… pure. Like a small community theatre or children’s library. Pity.
A knock on your door startled you out of your thoughts. You sauntered across your office. It was very open, with a living room type space in the center. The floor there was deeper than the rest of the room, which you’d always thought was an interesting architecture choice. You stepped past the bookshelves, the windows facing the city, and a quaint fireplace. Another knock on the door. You signed, the precipitation from your glass making your hand cold. You wiped off the moisture on your blouse before opening the door.
One of your bouncers stood at the door, phone in hand, “Ms. l/n, there’s a dancer that’s been injured. She wanted me to ask if you could phone an ambulance.”
“By “you”, she means YOU, yes?”
“I think so…” He seemed uncomfortable.
“How badly is she injured.” It was more of a statement than a question. You tried to avoid that sort of tone. It’s the only way a woman could do what you did.
“A broken ankle, I think.”
“You sure do a lot of that, don’t you,” you mumbled. “Yes, please phone an ambulance. Tell them no sirens. I’ll walk down with you.”
He nodded, dialing 911. He shouted into his phone, the music still mind-numblingly loud. That is, however, how you liked it. Everyone here ought to be numb. Come to think of it, you didn’t even know what was playing. Some bass-heavy dance song that had just about everyone moving. Sort of magical.
Despite the song, people’s attention turned to you as you left the second landing and moved to the first floor. Your bouncer had put his phone away, and was waving away people who looked like they wanted to approach you. You could understand. You were a young, barely 20-something female entrepreneur who was currently wearing the tightest leather pants anyone had every seen. Paired with matching mauve ankle-strap stilettos and button up blouse, you might as well have been a walking Oscar award.
The fresh air as you pushed open the glass doors was absorbing. You breathed in, closing your eyes for a moment. Your injured dancer was sitting on the sidewalk clutching her ankle. You rolled your eyes.
“You brought her out front? You’re kidding me.”
The bouncer looked at you and shrugged, “It was the closest exit.”
“So be it. But if there’s anything more than a 5% drop this week, I will break more than your ankle.”
He swallowed. The idea was humorous, being that he had to be at least 6’5, and well over 200 pounds. However, there were plenty of rumors about what you did to disobedient employees. You didn’t approve of unnecessary physical violence, but you had to keep people in line. This was L.A after all.
The ambulance finally showed up, and paramedics inspected your dancer. It was probably 60 degrees out, and she was hardly wearing anything. You glanced at the line, running your eyes over the people waiting. Walking to a man on his phone, you tapped on his shoulder.
“You look like a proper gentlemen, mind if I borrow your jacket?”
He turned to you, “Oh goodness, see I’m just passing by-“
“Please?” You offered a smile. He was elegantly dressed. Oh, a man in a suit was a good man indeed.
He hesitated, sighing, “I suppose.” He slipped off the jacket, handing it to you.
“Lovely,” you smiled again, then turned away from him abruptly and returned to the dancer. What was her name… Kaley? Karen? Something with a K…
You knelt beside her, “Here.” You wrapped the jacket around her shoulders. Tears were pouring silently down her cheeks as a paramedic examined and wrapped her ankle. It was so swollen, definitely broken.
“Thank you s-so much, I’m so so sorry, I-“ She stumbled over her words.
“Don’t worry, there’s no need to apologize. I’ll pay for the medical bills, should you need an operation, I’ll pay for that too. Just come back to work for me, okay?” Your voice was soft.
Her eyes welled up with tears again, makeup running down her cheeks. “Oh god, thank you so much! I’ll repay you, thank you.”
“You will repay me by returning,” you stood. “Enjoy your vacation.”
She smiled weakly, nodding. The paramedics helped her into the ambulance, then drove off silently. Business went on. You still hadn’t gotten her name.
As you turned to go back to your office, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You froze.
“I suppose when you said “borrow”, you really meant “keep.””
It was the handsome man from before. You smiled, turning to face him. “I guess it just turned out that way.”
“Hm. Well, however will you repay me?”
You looked at him timidly. He had deep brown eyes, a mischievous smile, ruffled brown hair and set frame. He looked like he were, to put it simply, up to no good. Especially now that you’d gotten a good look at him.
You stepped back. “What do you think you’re doing here, Mr. Morningstar.”
He chuckled, “Oh, you know me? I swore you looked familiar,” he smiled at you, tilting his head. “I just wanted to ask a few questions.”
“About what?”
He ran a hand through his hair, lowering his chin as he looked at you. You could smell his cologne, the mints on his tongue. Where had you met him? Where had you met him…
“What’s your deepest desire, Ms l/n….”

Chapter Text

His eyes bore into you. You were confused by his question. Deepest desire? You hadn’t really thought about it. EXIT was so successful… What more could you want? And why did he want to know? 

“I’m not sure what you’re asking,” you said. Your confusion surprised him. 

“W..What?”

“Is it hard to hear me? Here, lets go up to my office,” you took his arm and led him back into EXIT. The crowd had settled. Typical for a 2AM crowd. You heard Lucifer’s faint laughter. 

“Well, I hope this is my answer.”

You shook your head. The stairs felt like they went on forever, and your feet were beginning to hurt. You put in the key to your office and opened the door. Lucifer followed you in, and grabbed your hips as soon as the door closed. 

“Woah woah woah, slow the hell down,” you said, pushing his hands away. You turned to face him. He looked truly perplexed. 

“You have no idea how accurate that was,” he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So wait, why did you invite me up here if we weren’t going to…”

“It was loud down there, I figured it’d just be easier to talk up here. You like bourbon?”

“Yes, two fingers,” he said, pocketing his hands and stepping passively towards the foam green couch in the center of the room. "It's good, this. We meet at last!" He chuckled. You walked to your desk and poured him a glass. The entire way up, you’d been thinking about his question. What did you truly desire?

“Ms l/n-“

“Please, call me f/n.”

“Right, yes, f/n, you haven’t answered my question.”

You stepped towards the couch, handing him his drink and taking a seat across from him. “I’ve been pondering it.”

“Pondering it…” His brows furrowed. “Like, thinking it over? You don’t have the impulse to just… tell me?”

“What? No, of course not. In fact, I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

“Then why are you?” He leaned back on the couch, stretching his arms across the back of it. Your eyes lingered on his chest, the top button undone. You bit the insides of your cheeks, keeping a neutral expression. 

“Well, we were bound to run into each other.”

“Have we not? I swear we have.” He smiled.

“I have the same feeling, actually..”

“Maybe we’ve had sex?”

You laughed, “Absolutely not, how unprofessional!” 

“I am your competition, aren’t I,” the corners of his mouth curled upward. He sipped his whiskey. Despite his jokes, he was shockingly charming. 

“Well, no,” you laughed at his expression. He looked offended. “Not to say you aren’t an exemplary businessman. I just don’t view you as an enemy.”

“I suppose that’s comforting, you wouldn’t want me to dislike you.”

“Oh?” You folded your hands in your lap.

“I am the devil after all.”

“Right right, of course,” you smiled. You had heard talk of Lucifer’s obsession with being the devil. However, you’d also heard your fair share of curious stories about unexplainable things, all of which Lucifer had been somehow involved in. 

“F/n, look at me,” he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, brown eyes shadowed. There was something behind them that you couldn’t explain. “What do you want most in the world? What do you truly desire?”

“I’ve already told you that I don’t know, Lucifer.”

He sat back, “How very odd.”

“Does anyone ever answer that question?”

“Absolutely everyone. Well, there’s only ever been one person who didn’t. But other than her, everyone tells me.”

You thought for a moment, chewing your lip. “Well, what about you then? What do you want?”

He paused, “What?”

“Has anyone ever asked you? What do you desire, Lucifer?” You stood, mimicking him in his demeanor. You could play his game. Sexy was your favorite facade. 

“You can’t do that,” he mumbled. His swagger had completely disappeared. 

You walked around the couch and leaned over it, your lips right next to his ear. 

“What do you need, Lucifer Morningstar?”

“….Companionship-“ He blurted. Immediately, he stood from the couch. “How did you-“

“What? Do what?” You couldn’t hide your shock at his reaction. 

“Excuse me,” he said, turning abruptly and storming from the room. The door slammed behind him, leaving you in a state of speechlessness. 

At that moment, exhaustion hit you in waves. What had just happened? All you did was ask what he wanted, or, what he needed. Was that so wrong? 

“Companionship…” You rolled the idea over in your mind. Was that what he needed? A man completely surrounded by wealth and sex, how could he possibly be lonely? But then again, as you looked around you, you could understand. The whole situation freaked you out, and right now you just wanted to sleep. You picked up his glass, spinning it in your hand. There was still a shot or so left, and if it weren’t for your fear of STDs, your would’ve shamefully finished it. You returned it to your desk, and then walked to a door that stood to the left of the fireplace, on the same wall as the door that lead to the lounge. You opened it, stepping into your bedroom. As good as a shower sounded, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to stay awake through the whole endeavor. 

Undoing your heels and stripping your legs of your painfully tight leather pants, you undressed and flung yourself onto your bed. You were practically asleep before your head hit the pillow.

 

You were in a forrest, wearing only a white chiffon dress. You were running, but you didn’t know what from. It felt like you weren’t going anywhere, despite the trees flying past you. 

The air was musky, like something had been there for too long. The trees were dying, and the ground was littered with newly fallen leaves, as if it were fall. But instead of the bright colors, everything was murky and grey. Fear pumped through your veins, adrenaline making your legs move impulsively. 

You exited the forrest abruptly, the trees ending. You were in a field, the sun bright and yellow. You squinted, trying to see what was in front of you. Feathers fell around you. One landed directly in front of you, and you reached down to pick it up, when the sound of laughter startled you out of the motion. You looked around, walking backwards away from the woods. 

Your back hit something solid, and arms wrapped tightly around you. 

“What do you desire, f/n, what is it, tell me, tell me, TELL ME.”

Lucifer’s voice was rough and demonic. You looked down at the skin on his arms. It was burning red.

“TELL ME.”

 

Your eyes flew open. A breath filled your lungs and you pushed yourself upright. Sweat coated your body. Light filled your room. Panting, you swung your legs out from under the covers. What the hell did you just dream about? You ran a hand through your tangled hair, the cold air hitting your bare skin. 

Standing, you walked achingly to the bathroom and turned on the shower. You looked at your reflection. The fog made it hard to see the detail, but something was different. You couldn’t say what, but something was just… off. 

What did Lucifer do to you?

Chapter Text

That morning was a long one. You didn’t make it out of your room until your assistant, Ren, came knocking on your door. What a jittery boy.

“Ms l/n! We’re running a bit late, but how bad could this meeting really be? Must you miss it?”

You grabbed a jacket and hurriedly opened the door. Your hair was pulled into an updo, and you wore a blue blazer, white blouse and hugging grey slacks. Meeting day meant professional-casual. 

“So sorry, Ren, I’m a bit out of it this morning. Tea?”

“Yes, here,” he fumbled with a cup of earl grey, careful not to drop a single paper. He was always balancing something.

“You’re a saint,” you smiled, walking swiftly with him to the door. Ren was a sweet guy, no older than 21, just starting his career. He did most of the paperwork for EXIT, thank god. You hated manual labor. You’d rather just do the talking. He struggled to keep up with your stride. He had undercut blond hair and a sort of boyish charm that paired nicely with the rest of him. You couldn’t’ve asked for anyone better.

“So today we’re talking budgeting, and there’s some prospective donors who’d like to invest. It might be a nice chance to upgrade things, fix that faulty light, tune the piano… find a piano player.”

“I can play!” You squabbled like this often.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, but you never leave the cave.”

“The cave is called my office, and I do leave. Sometimes. You know I don’t like people.”

“Speaking of people,” Ren hesitated, “I’ve heard talk.”

“The guy from last week was some drunk who wandered into my office, nothing happened, I’m not so unbecoming to just-“

“No, f/n, last night…” He opened the door for you, the cool air welcoming. Clouded sky and a car greeted you outside. “Mr. Morningstar…”

You walked to the car and pretended not to hear him. You opened the passenger door of your black Porsche. It was an 80s model, but you’d never been one to know much about cars. It was your dad’s, his baby, so you kept it. 

Ren shuffled to the other side, opening the door and setting all the paperwork between the two of you. The tea in your hands burned, but you ignored it. You were already seething. 

The car started, and Ren drove around the block and onto the main street leading to the business section of the city, away from other clubs and tourist attractions. He set the car in gear and drove with one hand on the steering wheel. You hated how he did that, because this wasn’t his car to get so comfortable in, but you also felt calm knowing he was okay doing that with you around. You felt better knowing you had a friend.

“Are you just not going to tell me about why he was there?” He checked the rearview mirror, then glanced at you.

You swallowed. “I don’t exactly know what happened.”

“Look, if he did something to you, you can tell me. He has a way of-“

“Jesus, Ren. I hope you haven’t spent your time imagining that that’s what happened.”

“So something did happen?”

“No.” You looked out the window. “He, I don’t know. I brought him up because he was just there last night. He was hanging around outside, I don’t know why. But I felt like I needed to say something or introduce myself. We work in the same district for Christ’s sake.”

“Well, people are talking. I don’t know if that was such a wise choice knowing his reputation.”

“Knowing his reputation, if anything of that nature happened, it would’ve taken longer than ten minutes, which is exactly how long he was in my office.”

Ren chuckled. “Oh yeah?” He shook his head. Silence settled for a minute. Then, “What’d you two talk about anyway?”

“Nothing, really.”

“Please. You, leather pants, and Lucifer Morningstar sat and talked about nothing? Stop lying to me.”

He turned onto the freeway the lead north. You were off to Sunset Lane, the Madison Avenue of LA. You could barely remember what type of meeting this was. Prospectors? That meant there’d be other people there. That meant-

“Holy- Shit shit shit! Ren!

He looked at you, startled. “What?! What is it?”

You turned to him, “Please tell me this is a closed meeting.”

“Of course not, you know investors like to meet with everyone at once. This is the entertainment business, and not even the good part. Why?”

“Don’t you suppose other club owners will be there.”

“Oh… Oh no, f/n what the hell did you say to him?”

“Nothing! I didn’t even do anything!” You held your head in your hands. 

“Look, as your friend and the guy with your attorney on speed dial, you need to tell me right now what you did to make Lucifer so upset.”

“Who said I made him upset?” You took a sip of your tea. This was not going to be a good day. Maybe you could spike it before you got to the meeting. 

“Everyone who saw him, “storm out in dismay, only to search for the nearest exit out of EXIT.””

“That’s very specific…” You look at him, eyes narrowed. He raised his eyebrows and tossed you his phone. There, on the front screen, was an LA Times notification. The headline: “Morningstar makes the fastest exit from EXIT… ever. Broken heart or broken deal?”

You nearly did a spit take, “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Our LAPD insides are having quite a laugh. All I’ve been getting this morning, questions from reporters and our boys in blue wanting to know if they should send somebody out.”

“He’s so overdramatic.”

“What did you do? No more circles.” He turned off the freeway and headed towards the heart of LA business. 

“He does that thing, where he asks your deepest desire. And I didn’t know, so I asked him what he wanted.”

“That’s it? Jesus. Well, what does he want? Was it gross or something?” Ren smirked. 

“He, I guess, I asked what he needs, and he said he needs companionship.”

Ren threw his head back and laughed. “Companionship? How ironic.”

“That’s what I thought! But he seemed so shocked that he said anything, then he just stood up and stormed out. I had no idea that I upset him so much. I was going to replace his jacket and send some liquor. Maybe absinthe? Or merlot? I don’t know what he drinks…”

Ren took a deep breath, turning onto Sunset Lane. “Look, we’ll talk more about this later. Please, take a look at the red folder. That’s our first guy.”

“Is each folder a different person?” Your eyes widened. There had to be 15 different folders, all different colors. Ren was so organized. 

“Yep. Sorry. At least it's a nice day?”

You sighed, “A sunset is just a big fire, Ren. Just a big, burning fire.”

 

———

 

The Bard&Jones building had to be the coolest looking business building in southern California, despite its name. The elegant silver walls curved up towards the sky, polarized windows creating a very chic-modern effect. No wonder it was the spot for any professional entertainment creatives to flock for shady deals and bidding wars. However, today it was a place of paper, signatures, and overly-firm handshakes. 

You stepped out of the car, and Ren handed you a briefcase. There wasn’t much in it, mostly extra earl grey, perfume, scented paper, manila folders, and an assortment of colored inkwell pens. You adjusted the cuffs of your sleeves, grabbing Ren’s shoulder before he got a chance to start walking. 

“Do I look alright?” You flashed a wide, fake, toothy grin at him. 

“Excellent. Bit of lipstick here though,” he motioned at the corner of your mouth. You ran a pedicured finger along the edge of your mouth. Ren looked away awkwardly. 

“All better?” His eyes met yours. They always had a very kind, determined sparkle to them. Please, nothing ruin this boy.

“Absolutely perfect.” He grinned. “Shall, we?” His arm extended towards the shining front doors. You inhaled deeply.

“We shall,” the corners of your mouth settled. Pokerface. 

The two of you strode to the front doors. They swung open automatically, and you walked in with as much confidence as you could possibly muster. The woman at the front desk smiled delicately. 

“Ah! Ms. l/n and Mr. Caulfield. Lovely, and just in time, as usual. Please, nearly everyone is here,” she stood, gesturing to the elevator. The lobby was very modern, colorful, and shiny. The floor was a classic marble, leftover from the original building. For what it was used for, you weren’t sure. But you liked it. It had charm. “My name is Cassidy, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. You’ve been here before?” She reached a dainty finger to the elevator button. 

“We have yes. Not for two years, or course.” It was only your second time here. Bard&Jones was an intriguing company. You thought they were ahead of their time, Ren thought they were risky. They only gathered up the southern California clients every two years, which was odd for a company of this size. Yet, they were very flexible with their business. As long as you pulled your weight, they’d provide you with whatever resources you needed. In this case, it was money, which is why they were generous enough to host a client-sponsor meeting. Ren had a big pitch, but you were mostly there to say the fun stuff. You enjoyed the thrill of mad-lib style, Don Draper inspired pitches. 

“Right right, yes. Only your second time here then?”

“Correct,” Ren nodded, smiling. Cassidy was enticingly pretty. You wondered how she got that way. 

“Here’s the elevator then, it’s the fourteenth flour.” She smiled at you as you stepped in, Ren following behind you. The doors closed, and you stared at your blurred reflection in the doors as lyric-less pop music sung you to the fourteenth flour. 

“What’s our big angle?”

Ren scoffed, “I said read the folder, don’t skim it, f/n.”

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t tsk tsk me. You know I’m better if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Well, we really want to aim for live entertainment this year. We have a raised platform, and vintage is trending right now. We want to go for a… a…” 

“A speak-easy feel?”

He smiled, shaking his head, “Yes, yes exactly. This is why you’re here.”

You laughed. The elevator slowed to a stop, and the doors opened. Light filtered in, and the sudden exposure made you squint. Once your eyes had adjusted, you stepped out and followed Ren down the hall. You could see everyone sitting in the soundproof boardroom. You’d always admired the design of the floors here. All the walls were glass, but the fancy kind with adjustable opacities. The floors here were marble, but you suspected it was faux, which you couldn’t even judge because it was still more expensive than what you could afford to buy. 

There was one man standing in the boardroom, who you suspected was the company lawyer; a.k.a, the guy who’d witness and sign off on any of the deals. However, this was more of a briefing for following meeting and an opportunity to swap business cards. You didn’t expect much to come out of it, but as Ren had pointed out so many times before, you really were too hard on yourself. 

“Ah! About time you two got here,” the standing man extended his hand. One firm handshake down, 10,000 to go. He shook Ren’s hand as well, and you had the sneaking suspicion that he had the same thought as you. “Sit anywhere!” You circled the glass table and sat nearest the left corner. Ren sat to your right. You set your briefcase below you, holding it upright with your feet. 

“Thank you for inviting us, your companies communication skills were pleasant as always,” Ren said, practically glowing. What as kiss-ass. 

“Of course! We’re about to get started. My name is Carl Laghtner, I’ll be your serving witness today, should you need one.” He grinned. His face looked like it had been drawn by an animator, the way it shined, the way his nose stuck out so far from his face. His hair was brown, but there were grey hairs here and there. The tie he was wearing wasn’t tied quite right, like he’d gone for a windsor, then changed his mind halfway through. It was as if everything about him, down to the smallest detail, was just a bit off. Like someone had moved his very existence three inches to the left, just when everyone had gotten used to him. It was odd, and it would’ve made you uncomfortable if you’d known him better. 

Mr. Laghtner sighed, looking expectantly at his watch. There were nine other people there, and you had an inkling that someone was missing. The empty seat was beside you, to your left. You stared at it. The silence was awkward. 

“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to start-“

Just as Mr. Laghtner began pulling out his paperwork, a tall, dark figure made its way into your peripheral. You heard his footsteps, faintly, and wanted nothing more than to just disappear. Your pokerface was threatening to dissipate, along with your dignity. Ren glanced at you, breathing in deeply. You breathed with him, plastering a stern smile on your face. 

Lucifer Morningstar opened the glass door, the light painting him like a portrait. Dark brown eyes fluttered around the room for a moment, before meeting yours. His mouth stretched into a sly smile, but his eyes were different. They were cold, empty, unglowing. His jaw clenched, and he swallowed. Was he…

Was he afraid?

 

Chapter Text

“Just in time!”

You stared into space as Mr. Laghter greeted Lucifer. All you could do was gawk. Why him. Why here. Why now. God, why. Why. Why why why. Why why-

“F/n,” Ren whispered to you. Your mind snapped out of the fog, and you turned to face him. 

You smiled, “What do we do?”

He looked at you, confused, “Why’re you smiling?”

“I don’t want anyone thinking that something is wrong. Because nothing is wrong. Everything is fi-“

Lucifer pulled out the chair next to you. You breathed in sharply. The smell of his cologne was striking, yet oddly calming. Ren smiled at you awkwardly. You were terrified to look straight forward. Not only were you embarrassed and confused, but you were sort of sad. What a lovely business relationship the two of you could’ve had, the money you could’ve made! Not to mention he was strikingly good looking. Always so well dressed, well mannered. Today, he wore a black jacket, white shirt, and periwinkle pocket square. Yes, what a shame indeed.

“Shall we begin?” Carl took a seat at the end of the table. “Aces Club, would you like to start us off? Not picking on you, just alphabetical,” A man stood, introduced himself, and started talking about his club. How he got there. What he did to get there. What he wanted to do. On and on and on. You tuned out. Ren was listening, that’s all that mattered. You just couldn’t stop thinking about Lucifer. He was less than a foot from you, and unfortunately now, you had your back to him. Was he looking at you? Thinking about you? 

Oh please, you scorned yourself, what, are you in middle school? Who cares! He’s just another human being. You sighed, reaching down to grab a pen and paper from your briefcase. Then, as the owner of Aces made a joke about something profane in the way only someone in this industry could, you heard a ripping sound. Conveniently covered by the laughter, thank god. You glanced at your leg. Perhaps your slacks had been a bit too fitting, for the entire left-side seam had torn. 

You nearly cursed yourself. It wasn’t until you sat up again that your peripheral forced you to look at Lucifer. He had a very amused look on his face, his eyebrows raised, eyes wide. 

“How unfortunate,” he whispered. His voice was deep and silky, and so profoundly british. You rolled your eyes. 

Turning to Ren, you elbowed him. The room was quieter now, so you grabbed his pen and clipboard and scribbled something down. You could feel Lucifer’s eyes on you. 

‘I seem to have torn my pants’

Ren looked confused until you leaned back and lifted the loose material. His eyes darted to Lucifer, who was still smiling. A blush settled on his features, and he shrugged. Then, as if someone had turned on a lightbulb, he wrote down one word:

‘Briefcase’

You shook your head, mouthing, “I can’t.”

He nodded at you. The skirt. You had a skirt in the briefcase. And if you were subtle enough, you’d be able to put it on without anyone noticing. Except…

You rested your elbow on the table, your chin on your hand, covering your mouth as you struggled not to laugh or scream or do something other than sit there with a perfectly trained pokerface. Breathing deeply, you waited for your moment. Ideally, someone would have a slideshow. You wanted so badly to look at Lucifer. To see what he was thinking. To see how he’d react to this. You felt your brows furrow, just for a moment. 

Why do I even care?  

Just as you were assimilating some kind of plan for this costume change, the lights dimmed and the glass darkened. A projector lit up the wall opposite you. Everyone turned to watch the video that the Aces presenter was showing. You swallowed, not knowing how long the video was. You leaned down slowly, opening the briefcase and reaching into the side pocket. You grabbed the black pencil skirt that was neatly folded and tucked inside. Closing the case, you set the skirt on your lap and begun undoing your pants. 

Eyes forward, eyes forward. You could feel the heat rising from your chest to your neck. You couldn’t help it. Your eyes flickered to Lucifer, who was watching very tentatively out of the corner of his eye as you began to slide the slacks down your thighs, careful not to move too much. It was an incredibly slow process. He looked at you, head tilting ever so slightly, like a curious cat. He smiled, ever so slightly showing his teeth. 

“Oooo,” he mouthed. You clenched your jaw and returned your eyes to the screen, not really paying attention. Shoulders tense, you kicked off your shoes and used your feet to get the slacks all the way off. What kind of panties did you wear today? Didn’t matter. Stay focused. 

The black ones. The lacy black ones.

This was death. This was actually death. Maybe you ought to write a book on How To: Ruin Your Own Life, or Make Things Worse DIY. Because there you sat, next to your assistant and your rival, who probably already hates you, half naked, in a company paid meeting. Fucking hell. 

Quickly, you unzipped the skirt and slipped it on over your legs. You pulled it up, fumbling with the zipper and then tucking in your blouse. You exhaled sharply, then slipped on your heels. Running your hands down your waist to smooth out the fabric, you found yourself glancing at Lucifer once again. He no longer faced you, but you could see a smirk on his lips. Ren, you saw as you looked at him, wore a heavy blush and a sort of grimace. Or cringe. Great. 

The lights came on again, and as if a theatrical scene was taking place, you wiped any emotion from your face and gracefully applauded along with everyone else. How could things get any worse. 

 

— — — 

 

You don’t even remember what you said or what you did, what with Lucifer completely filling your mind, his impressed look after you’d finished your “brilliant” presentation (although some had been confused at your sudden skirt, but most figured they didn’t remember you right), his smile as he greeted everyone there, but four hours later you were sifting through papers as everyone filed out of the room. Ren said he’d meet you down in the car, saying he needed to run across the street and get a coffee or something of the sort. You had nailed absolutely everything, with finesse and excellence, yet you still felt like you’d ruined something. Like something wasn’t right, and you didn’t know what. 

You took in a deep breath, hoping that maybe if you held it long enough, you’d explode. Gathering the rest of the papers, you picked up the briefcase and walked to the elevator. It was just beginning to close. 

“Oh, please hold it!” 

A hand shot out, white cuff, black jacket. Expensive watch…

“Oh, fuck me…” You mumbled to yourself. Lucifer held the door open for you. 

“Oh,” he growled, “Well, that’s very forward of you, but I’m fine with that if you’re offering…”

You stepped into the elevator, dignity torn along with your slacks. “I’m not.”

“Darn,” he eyed you curiously. 

After a few seconds, you broke the silence, “Look, Mr. Morningstar-“

“Lucifer, please,” he turned to you.

“Yes, right, Lucifer, I’m not sure what happened last night, but whatever I did to upset you, I apologize.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you. Then, “Right yes. I um, apology accepted. But you didn’t upset me-“

“That’s not what the tabloids think,” you grumbled. 

He chuckled, “Yes, well, I wish it were what they thought, but, eh, you just,” he drifted off. You looked up at him. 

“Yes?”

Lucifer’s eyes stared into you, just like before. You still felt like he was drawing something out of you, but you weren’t sure what it was.

“You just surprised me, I suppose.”

“Surprise you? How?”

“I can’t explain it, look, here we are,” the elevator opened. He walked with you through the lobby, both of you buried in your own thoughts. You heard the secretary say something about having a good day, but you couldn’t even bother to wave. Whenever you were around Lucifer, you felt different. And you didn’t know why. 

“Neither can I,” you responded as the two of you stepped outside, the sun low in the sky. It was very beautiful out, warm and orange. The sky looked like a Monet painting, all dramatic and romanticized. Your eyes went back to his. He looked down at you, hands in his pockets. 

“You’re a curious one,” he said quietly. If you were stupid, you’d kiss him. If you didn’t have a mind, you’d kiss him and you’d never stop. His eyes fluttered to your lips for just a moment, and thus, you stepped back. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I think we ought to go our separate ways, yes?” You swallowed, eyes averted. 

He hesitated, keeping himself where he was instead of stepping towards you. He adjusted his jacket, then fidgeted with his sleeve, regaining his composure. “Of course, yes, I suppose you’re right… Have a lovely evening.” He smiled as you looked up at him. Why did he make you cower so easily?

“You too, Mr. Morningstar.” A chilling wind blew past you, and you turned away from him. Ren was waiting in the car, hands on the wheel, seatbelt buckled. Had he gone to get coffee, or had he just sat there?

You put on your sunglasses, more to hide your expression than anything else. You swayed your hips, and watched Lucifer in the reflection of your car. He stared after you. He stared after you, and he smiled. 

Then, he walked away. 

Ren started the car, and you watched Lucifer get into his car, his lanky legs taking long strides. It took you a couple minutes to realize the Ren had been talking to you.

“…amazing. Much better than I thought we would, considering.”

You glanced at him, “I’m sorry, can you repeat everything you just said to me.”

He sighed. “I was saying that you did great. Although you did seem distracted in-between interactions. What was on your mind?”

“What do you think.”

He shook his head, “If you don’t mind me saying, after watching you and Lucifer, I don’t think either of you should get involved with the other, in any way, professional of otherwise.”

You laughed, “Oh, are you grounding me?”

“If you want to call it that. But I’m serious. He’s not good for you.”

“And what if I’m good for him?”

“Well, it’s just too bad that he isn’t in the companies best interest,” Ren’s tone had a bite to it. Was he jealous. He huffed, “Look, f/n, you’re smart. This is Lucifer Morningstar we’re talking about. He only cares about himself. He’ll use you, and he won’t even care. Everything is him and no one else.”

“You talk about him as if he’s a monster.”

You talk about him as if he’s your soulmate. Pull it together.”

Silence settled. You felt like a scolded teenager. And you didn’t appreciate that Ren was being so defensive. But you also knew that he was right. Lucifer couldn’t be anything more than an acquaintance, at least not until you knew what he was doing to you. 

It wasn’t until after Ren had wished you a goodnight and you were back outside EXIT that your head really started working again. You’d been in a fog for the past six hours. But now you were back, and there was already a line of people outside. The music was loud, but you managed to tune it out until you got upstairs. A bouncer was waiting outside your door, and he greeted you as you stepped past him to open the door. Security had been heightened in order to keep out any unwanted paparazzi. Closing the door gently behind you, music fading, you slipped off your shoes and walked towards your desk. You needed a drink. As you turned to look towards your desk, you noticed a bouquet of flowers on the mantle of your fireplace. Forget-me-nots and peonies. A small note was attached. 

‘See you soon?’ The handwriting was light and feathery, but undoubtedly a man’s. A smile crept onto your face as you delicately lifted the bouquet and carried it with you to the edge of the room. You looked out at the city. In the distance, you could see Lux tower. 

Maybe there was hope for Lucifer yet. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as his reputation…

…Maybe…

Chapter Text

Falling asleep had never been so easy. Staying asleep? That was a completely different story. Your mind raced, and that night was full of strange dreams and broken sleep cycles. It wasn’t until 5AM that you finally decided to give up trying to get a full eight hours. Sitting up, you ran your hands over your face in a vain attempt to shake yourself out of… whatever was happening. The dreams you had had escaped you, but you had a feelings that many of them featured the same place you’d seen before. The woods, the meadow, the sky. You remembered the feel of it, the heat. Why was the ground so hot there? What did that mean?

Your mind went back to your days in college, or what time you’d spent there before moving to LA. You’d taken a psychology course just for kicks, and there was a whole section on dreams. But you couldn’t remember all the meanings. Maybe you’d look it up later, but right now, you wanted to push everything to the back of your mind and attempt to go on with your day. 

A shower and a cup of coffee sounded particularly wonderful, so you pushed off your comforter and walked to the bathroom. You took a hotter shower than usual, hoping the sting of the water would ground you somehow. Thoughts about Lucifer kept popping up in your mind. You still needed to replace his jacket. What was it? Prada? How appropriate, you thought. A smile fluttered across your lips, then vanished at the sound of something breaking. Your body tensed. You kept the water on, but stepped out of the shower. You put on a bathrobe and grabbed a decorative statue from your bathroom counter. Opening the door, you leaned down and peaked out. Your hands were surprisingly steady, but your heart was pounding. 

A figure stood at your bedside table, rifling through the drawers. She had dark hair, but you couldn’t see her face. You glanced at the door, wondering if you could make a break for it, but when you looked back, she was facing you. There was a smile on her face. She was strikingly beautiful. Long brown hair, dark skin, a gorgeous figure. There was something very dark about her eyes.

“Can I help you?” You stepped forward, clutching the statue. 

“Probably not without making things awkward,” she stepped towards you. She wore a revealing leather top and skirt, and her height was further emphasized by the heels she wore. All black. 

“What does that..” You gasped as she reached out a hand to brush your shoulder. 

“He didn’t say anything about you being so pretty,” she smirked, biting her lip. You were completely frozen. Who did she think she was? But… You didn’t stop her. 

“He…?” Your breath was shallow. What the hell was going on?

“Oh yeah, he.”

“Someone sent you here?” Your eyes met. She laughed. Her hand went to your face, her thumb tracing your bottom lip. Your hands slowly lowered, and the statue dropped to the ground. She leaned into you, backing you up against the wall. Her face was less than an inch from yours, her breath warming your cheek. She put a hand on your hip, then looked you in the eyes. 

“Don’t worry about who did what, all that matter is what we could do,” she smiled, brushing her lips up against yours. 

You couldn’t breathe. You were terrified but also totally turned on. It took you a moment to come to your senses, and you shoved her off of you. She growled, “Oh, rough, huh?” 

“No! Fucking… Get out. Get out right now and I won’t call the police.”

“Maybe you should call ‘em, we could get some cuffs and make things more fun,” she stepped towards you, but you turned from her and walked out of your bedroom. You started for the door, knowing that one of your bouncers was outside. 

“Hey! Wait!” She chased after you, “Look! I’m leaving, I’ll go.” She looked around, her eyes falling on Lucifer’s bouquet. They lingered there, then she was walking past you. She opened the door and stepped over your guard, who was lying on the ground. “Sorry about him,” she paused, looking at you, “I hope I get to see you again, and you’ve got some…” She wiped her lips, then turned and left.

You wiped your mouth, her red lipstick coming off on your hand. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you spun around, looking at the room. Everything looked like it hadn’t been touched, but you knew she’d probably gone through everything. The clock read 5:30, but that felt like it’d only been a few moments. You wanted to scream. At someone, at something. The floor felt like it was spinning beneath you. You unclenched your fists, not realizing they’d been clenched in the first place. Nail marks were left in your skin, red and burning. 

Without any thought, you walked to the window and peered out. The sun was just beginning to rise, and Lux tower was off in the distance, reflecting the pink light. You stared at it, and something it your gut told you that lucifer had been the one who’d sent that heathen of a woman. An incoherent shout slipped up through your throat and you slammed your hand on your window. As if your bought of anger had flipped a switch, your vision went white, and you stumbled backwards. A feeling of complete heat, almost of a weightlessness hit you. Your arm stuck out as you fell, landing solidly on your ass, your wrist bending oddly as you did so. The fall mixed with the irritation of your sprain caused your eyes to tear up. You wiped your eyes, your vision returning. When you could finally see, you looked up. Speechlessness gripped your by the throat and prompted you to stand. A hand- your hand- covered your mouth in shock. 

The glass was broken. It hadn’t shattered, nor had it fallen to pieces, but there was a large indent where your fist had landed, and cracks sprawled themselves across the windowpane. You looked at your hand. It was completely unmarked. Not a single scratch, no matter how hard you looked. 

You felt like it was all a dream, like none of this was really happening. Nausea hit you, and of a wave of dizziness forced you again to the ground, this time on purpose. You stared out across the city, out at Lux. The sun continued to rise, lighting the tower ablaze with light. It was blinding, but more than that, it was warm. It was a comfort.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt calm.

Chapter Text

You didn’t know how long you sat on the floor, looking out the window. The sunrise was beautiful. It looked like the whole city was on fire. Clouds began to drift in, and for a long time, you didn’t notice the rain hitting the glass. A few droplets made it through the cracks. You reached out to touch them, pricking them with your fingertips. It was serene. 

What day was it? Saturday? That meant a busy night. You decided to get up, not realizing that you’d been sitting on the ground for almost three hours. A knock on your door startled you out of your fog. Ren opened the door, walking in with a tray of tea and a file full of papers. You sighed. It felt like you’d just woken up.

“Hey Ren, I’m a little too groggy to-“

He jumped, dropping everything, and walked towards you, eyes over your shoulder. “What the fuck happened?!

You looked at him, confused, before realizing that he was talking about the glass. He walked to it, running his hand over it gently. 

“Oh, that. Uh, a bird hit the window. I was going to call maintenance.”

“A bird?!! How stupid do you think I am! Fuck.”

“Ren, calm down, everything’s fine-“

He stormed over to you, pointing a finger in your face, “I don’t know what has been up with you, but this is possibly the most critical time in our franchise’s history. You cannot fall apart now.” His face was red, and a vain throbbed on his forehead. You’d never seen him so angry.

“Ren, I-“

“Don’t even try to explain this to me,” he ranted. Through clenched teeth, he continued, “Stop doing this to me.”

Ren had never scolded you like this before. You didn’t like it, but you knew it was probably deserved. Whatever person you were turning into, it needed to stop. Something needed to change, but you didn’t know what. You didn’t know what to do.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry doesn’t fix shit, f/n,” he turned, huffing out a breath. He looked at the window, back to you, and ran a hand through his hair. “What are we going to do. This isn’t in the budget.”

“I know a guy,” you mumbled, “It’ll be fine.”

He swiveled, glancing at you, “Oh, you know a guy? Who would that be? None of our investors, that’s for sure. Because no one is going to want to invest now.”

“That isn’t true. You just have to… spin it.”

Ren scoffed, anger evident in his posture, his movements. He started to pace, then stopped. He looked like a dog that didn’t know what to do with its energy. 

“Spin it…” He laughed dryly. “Go ahead,” his arms were crossed now, “Spin this.”

“Well… Look how strong our windows are. They were obviously hit with an immense force, and they didn’t even shatter.”

He put his head in his hand, mumbling, “Yeah… Run with that. I’ll call the police. I assume this was a break in?”

You shook your head. “Nope. I don’t know how it happened, but no one broke in. Maybe I’ve been sleep walking.”

“I’m not stupid, you can talk to me,” he sighed, walking to you. “Look, I’m sorry for snapping. I’m just worried. We could be in better shape… financially. I’m hoping that the holiday season will really pull us out of our debt.”

“Don’t apologize, Ren. If you weren’t here, it would be worse,” you smiled at him. 

“Thank you, it’s nice to here that every once in a while,” he shook his head, “But you need to talk to me. Whatever is going on with you… You need to tell me. Is it Lucifer? Your parents? What?” He looked into your eyes. You wanted so, so badly to tell him everything, the dreams, the sleep problems, about the woman in your room this morning, your… connection to Lucifer, if you could even call it that. You really needed someone to talk to but, would he understand? Would he still think you were sane?

“It’s just stress. That’s all. The clients are making me nervous.”

He nodded, but you felt he wasn’t convinced. He clenched his jaw, looking again at the window, then at the bouquet of flowers. He inhaled deeply before looking back at you.

“Okay. If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

You forced a small smile. He was supposed to be your partner in all of this. So, why did you feel so alone?

You walked to the pile of papers that he’d dropped. The tea hadn’t spilt, thankfully sealed in a thermos. Papers in hand, you sat down on the couch. Ren sat across from you. There was a moment of silence while you sipped at your earl grey and read his reports. You heard him clear his throat. 

“Are you uh, are you going to get dressed?”

Heat rose to your neck, and you felt your ears get hot, “Oh um, yes. That’s a good idea. Actually, I wouldn’t mind going shopping? There’s something I need to go pick up.”

He nodded, glancing down at his hands. “Quickly, then?”

“Yes. Quick as a bunny!” You hopped up, handing his papers back, then walked swiftly to your room.

Thoughts swirling, you put on a white a-line dress with small, monarch butterflies on it. The neckline was high, and the back was low. Even though it was raining, you still wanted to wear it. You threw a coat over it and left the penthouse, ran down the stairs, and met Ren outside. He had an umbrella, and walked you to the car. 

Once inside, he started the engine, and the two of you were off. It was 9AM.

“Where exactly do you want to go?” He asked, one hand on the steering wheel. The windshield-wipers speaker faintly.

“Somewhere with Prada.”

“Like, Nordstrom?” He looked at you inquisitively. “What do you want? Shoes, a purse?”

“A men’s blazer,” you grinned at him. He shook his head. 

“Alright, your wish…”

 

— — — 

 

With the radio buzzing softly, and the rain pitter-pattering on the windshield, the drive went by fast. You couldn’t remember the last time you actually went shopping. Even though it was for Lucifer, you felt that this trip was going to be good for you. A little retail therapy never hurt anyone. 

Nordstrom smelled like perfume and fresh air. It was like if febreze commercials actually smelled the same as the spray- it was sweet, and you liked it. Today was going to be a good day, and the sale signs were just further proof. Fighting the urge to go straight to your section, you walked over to the mens’ department and sought out a clerk. Ren was on his phone, fingers tapping away at something. Probably an email to a client, or maybe early booking for Halloween. It was August, but you figured that people were getting already claimed. 

“Hi there, excuse me?” You walked up to a tall, red haired man. He spun and greeted you with a big smile. Everyone here is so nice, you thought.

“Hello! What can I do for you.”

“I’m looking to replace a blazer- it’s a long story, but it’s for a… friend, and he isn’t with me.”

The man looked around, “Well, do you know his size?”

Ren snorted. You blushed, “No, I don’t. He’s about six two, um, broad shoulders but sort of lanky-“

“Perhaps you have a name?” The man walked over to his computer at the register. “Lots of people are clients with us, do you know the brand of the blazer?”

“Prada. It was mute black with a silk red lining.”

“Oh yes, that’ll definitely be helpful. His name?”

“Lucifer Morningstar?”

The man, who’s name tag you’d just read (Clark), gasped. “Mr. Morningstar! Oh, what a lucky one you are to be so friendly with him!”

You laughed nervously, “We’re sort of rivals. He’s a club owner, I’m a club owner. His jacket was taken while he was outside my club so I just wanted to replace it.”

“Well lucky for you we do have that on record. I’m afraid without a receipt, it’s going to have to be paid for again,” he pouted. How flamboyant he was. 

“Yes, yes of course, not a problem. Can I get a pocket square to go with that?”

“Absolutely, my dear. What color?”

You thought for a moment, “Actually, if you have something floral, that’d be even better.”

Clark made an enthusiastic humming noise before leading you to a table full of every kind of pocket square imaginable. Your eyes were drawn to the one you’d had in mind- it was white with pink peonies. An appropriate choice considering the flower delivery you’d received the night before. 

“Oh excellent choice, I’m sure he’ll love it. Do you want a matching tie?”

You heard Ren laugh, “No. No more. This is it,” he shot you a look. 

You nodded in agreement, “Yeah, he’s right. I shouldn’t buy more than just this.”

Clark walked you back to the register, scanning the tags, “Wouldn’t want to scare him off,” he chuckled. A nervous laugh caught in your throat. You were trying to think back to the last time you did this for someone, and you honestly couldn’t remember. You hadn’t dated in a while. Work always kept you busy; you hadn’t exactly found it to be the best time for dating. But even before that, you rarely showered your S.Os with gifts like this. Mostly because you didn’t have the money…

“That’s going to be one-thou-“

You waved a hand, “Don’t tell me, just take my card,” you looked at Ren as you handed Clark your credit card. He was shaking his head, eyes on his phone, obviously judging you. Clark bagged everything and walked you out of the section, “Have a lovely day, and send Mr. Morningstar my best!” 

You nodded, “Absolutely, thank you very much.” You walked with Ren to the front doors. He pulled the receipt out of the bag and nearly gagged. 

“You’ve never bought me something this nice,” he mumbled, crumpling up the ledger. 

“Well, you’ve never asked,” you opened the door for him and stepped out into the rain, covering the bag with your arm. 

“Pfft, why would I ask for something that was over a thou-“

“Don’t tell me! Just unlock the car!” 

He laughed, “You’re terrible.” Ren walked to the drivers side while you put the bag in the backseat. He started the car, and you hopped into the passenger seat. Just as he shifted out of park, his phone rang. 

“Switch me sides, I need to take this.”

You sighed, getting out and walking the the drivers side. You got in and shut the door. It felt weird sitting on this side. There was a part of you that truly hated driving this car because it reminded you of your dad. A sense of dread settled in the back of your mind, but you did your best to repress it. Ren eyed you, putting a hand over his phone speaker, “You alright?”

“Yes, perfect,” you smiled. The wheel felt a lot smaller than when you were a kid. You turned on the radio and pulled out of the parking space, speeding towards the exit. Ren talked for a while with who you assumed was a client, but you tuned him out. Your mind was racing. You still had so many unanswered questions, and you needed to find answers- soon. Maybe this peace-treaty blazer would be the perfect opportunity to seize your solutions, if Lucifer had any…

The sky had cleared and the sun was setting by the time you arrived at EXIT. Ren hopped out and walked to the your side, putting this hand on the door handle. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, rolling down the window. 

“Aren’t you coming in? I was going to go get a bouncer to deliver that package-“

“Nope. Hand delivery.”

He looked confused, and sort of surprised by your sudden boldness. “He must really be something else…”

You glared at him, “He isn’t, I just have a few questions.”

“Like what?” Ren crossed his arms.

“Like, ‘Why is my assistant always asking me about my personal life?’” You glanced at him.

He scoffed, “Sorry for caring, I’ll leave you to your… personal life.” He stepped back, walking to his car. You shook your head. He could be so… angsty. Your eyes fell on the silver bag in the backseat. Something was telling you that this was a terrible idea. 

 

— — —

 

Lux was absolutely beautiful this time of day. Right around eight, people had just begun to show up, but they weren’t letting anyone in. You parked in an alleyway a block down, nervous about leaving your dad’s car. You grabbed the bag from the backseat, then triple checked that it was locked. Without really realizing, you set your hand on the hood. 

“Just in case I never see you again,” you mumbled to yourself, rather dramatically. You laughed internally at yourself. I’m crazy

It was weird being on this side of LA. Not that it was a totally different side, but this area was certainly known for being a bit more dangerous than where you were. You wondered is Lucifer had done that on purpose. As a matter a fact, you were sure he had to have. Maybe that was the clientele that he preferred? Come to think of it, you really didn’t know that much about the man, let alone his business ventures. You knew of his strange name and his obsession with being the devil. You’d also heard rumors about the deals he’d make with people; a sort of quid pro quo. A part of you was sort of scared that you may be walking into a trap, that he’d suck you into something you didn’t want to be a part of, but that was just your nerves talking. Why were you nervous? I’m not nervous. 

Your heart pounded as you walked up to the unattained door. That’s so dangerous! you thought. Someone could just… Walk in. Like you. Right now. 

You made your way down the stairs, taking a good look at the place. It was gorgeous without anyone in it. Your hand clutched the bag, palms beginning to sweat. Why were you so nervous? You almost felt threatened by the place. It was big and luxurious, much more “hell chic” than your place. And bigger. The glossy floor was striking, and you had to admit that the purple cushions were very complimentary. It was warm, but not comforting. Just warm. You couldn’t explain it. 

Before long, your eyes landed on the grand piano. It was smack dab in the middle of the room. You looked around, then walked over and sat at the bench. You wedged the bag between your feet, then lifted the key cover. It was gorgeous. You couldn’t even remember the last time you played piano. The only song you could remember off the top of your head was one of the first ones that you’d learned. Your hands went to the first keys, and you started to play. Taking one last glance around, you continued, swaying with the music. A smile spread across your face, and you closed your eyes. The words appeared in your mind. You sang, softly.

I’m afraid of

wanting you too much,” your hands moved without you even thinking. You’d forgotten how good it felt to play piano. 

I’m afraid of trembling

at your touch.

This is no time to start flashing your eyes at me.

I have to watch my heart,

It bruises so easily…

Don’t, insist,

There’s much too much concern.

If we kissed,

My memories might get

Burned…

And if I fell, in love, 

I might get hurt. 

Who knows?

I’m afraid… But anyway, here… goes…”

A sort of warmth spread through you as you continued the last bit of the song, your hands flitting up the keys. You smiled. If only you had a piano of your own. 

Then, out of nowhere, another voice chimed in, “Here goes, indeed.”

Chapter Text

You spun around and looked at the dark figure staring down at you from the landing. Lucifer smiled, walking down the stairs to meet you as you stepped cautiously away from the piano, eyes downcast. Your neck was burning.

“That was gorgeous, I didn’t know you could play,” he said through a smirk. He pocketed his hands and leaned back boisterously on his heels. “Or sing.”

“You also don’t know me,” you retaliated. The dimly lit club did nothing to hide your embarrassment, and you found your mouth grew dry.

His eyes softened, “I wouldn’t mind changing that, miss l/n.”

You scoffed in an attempt to feign confidence, “Pfft, please… Look, I’m not here because I wanted to tickle your ivories-“

“Ohh…”

“-Or embarrass myself on a grand scale,” You winced at your accidental pun, then returned briefly to the piano and picked up the bag. Reaching in, you lifted out the delicately folded jacket and pocket square. You set the bag down and lifted them out in front of you. “Ideally this’ll fit.”

Instead of smiling, he looked at you inquisitively, “Thank you…” He reached out and took the jacket, slipping it on over his white button up. It was perfect. “How’d you know my size?”

“Magic…” You grinned, stepping forward and folding the pocket square before placing it neatly in his breast pocket. “Floral. I thought you’d enjoy it.”

He chuckled, looking down at you. His warm brown eyes almost… glowed. “Peonies?”

“Yes,” you replied, unable to move. You’d never stood this close to him, and the remanent feeling of his chest left you wanting more. But you stepped back, taking in a breath of fresh air. You swallowed, rubbing a forlorn hand on the back of your neck. 

“I uh… Well, you can’t complain about a missing jacket anymore.”

“I suppose not,” he cleared his throat. “I like the red.”

“I thought you might.” There was a moment of quiet before it was interrupted by another voice.

“The awkward is so thick I can nearly taste it.” Heels clicked towards you. That voice… It sounded eerily familiar. In fact, it sounded a lot like…

The realization hit you almost as fast as your hand hit Lucifer’s face. “You fucking prick! You creep! How- Why- Her!!

The dark, mysterious woman who’d broken into EXIT and raided your place stood near Lucifer’s side, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. She laughed as Lucifer’s hand went immediately to his sore cheek.

“Ow! That hurt!” He pouted.

“Good! Here I was thinking that I was doing a good thing, that maybe we could salvage whatever professional relationship could’ve exited, but hell no!-“

“Well-“

“No! How could you send a… a… a goon to my home?! Who does that?”

His eyes narrowed, and he turned to look at the woman beside him, growling, “Me, evidently.”

She shrugged, “She seemed worth investigating.”

He looked at you, then back at her, then back at you. He seemed like he was caught in quite the pickle. “Maze….”

“That’s her name?”

“My name is Mazikeen. Only my friends get to call me Maze, you disrespectful-“

“Hey now!” Lucifer shouted, holding out his hands, “Stop this. Remember the silent treatment? Remember how we just got over that? You’ve wronged me enough, I ought to-“

“Ought to what? Send me to hell? Do it, I dare you.

“Look,” you were getting uncomfortable. “I’m just gonna leave. Leave and try to unhear all of this…”

“Wait! Miss l/n-“

“F/n, please.”

“F/n, stay. I’ll make it up to you, and I’ll explain all of this. Just, don’t move-“ He grabbed Mazikeen by the arm and led her away roughly while she complained and he grumbled something about betrayal and whatnot. Lucifer seemed pretty infuriated, and a part of you just wanted to make a break for it while you could. Your eyes looked at the doors that led outside, thought about how easy it would be to just walk out, walk to your car, and drive far, far away. But by the time you’d done it mentally, Lucifer was already back in your peripheral. 

“Look, I’m immensely sorry. She’s been a bit out of control lately.”

“Is she a friend of yours?”

“She’s my bartender, but yes, a friend I’ve known for an incredibly long time.”

You nodded, “How long?”

He laughed, “Feels like an eternity.”

Something about the whole encounter had left a bitter taste in your mouth, and you still weren’t sure if you could trust him or not. Logically, you couldn’t. But something else told you that you could trust him as much as you could trust, well, yourself. 

“I have so many questions…” You pursed your lips, staring at your hands. 

“So do I… How about a solution- dinner.”

“What about dinner?”

“Ah! I thought you’d never ask,” he held out his arm. 

“No I didn’t mean ‘what about dinner,’ I meant ‘what about-‘”

“F/n l/n, I’m going to take you to dinner, and we’re going to solve this puzzle. Unless you’d rather find answers another way…” He laughed lightly, his tongue darting over his lips. 

“No, thank you, dinner would be lovely. When?”

He rolled his eyes, “Now, I suppose.”

“Now? It’s Saturday, we both have clubs to run.”

“It’ll be fine and you know it,” he smiled, arm still extended. You took it, his smile contagious. 

“Fine it will have to be.” His brown eyes met yours, and he led you out of Lux, around the corner, and down the street. It was cold out, but right next to him, you felt like you were on fire. The two of you walked in synced silence, both smiling like mad, and both melting. It felt like you were a happy-go-lucky puzzle piece that just found it’s neighbor. You couldn’t help but wonder what the big picture would be.

 

— — — 

 

“This is a long walk,” you mumbled. The sky was darkening, and the two of you had to have walked nearly five blocks.

“There’s a lovely restaurant coming up. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

“Trust you? I barely know you!”

He nudged your side, “Oh, come on. You can trust me as much as I can trust you.”

You huffed, “What makes you think you can trust me?” His eyes met yours, and something inside of you sparked.

“I, well, I haven’t the slightest idea. Here we are,” he released your arm as you approached a large, eloquent restaurant. It smelled like rosemary and parmesan. Beautifully strung lights hung around the outside, giving the place a warm glow. The outside was decorated with stones and an assortment of small trees. Big glass windows allowed you to see into the interior. Dark oak tables and candles lit the inside. It was terribly fancy. 

“Lucifer, how expens-“

“Don’t,” he looked at you, then opened the door. You stepped in, the warmth of the place refreshing after the chilly walk. It was a very homey Italian restaurant. It was like he’d read your mind. 

“Hi there! Do you have a reservation?” A man asked from behind the front desk. He had soft features, tan skin, and a dashing smile. He was giving Lucifer a run for his money, and he knew it. Lucifer stepped up from behind you, putting an arm around your waist. 

“Morningstar,” he grovelled, his voice husky. Why the sudden change? You chuckled to yourself at the thought that he was trying to impress you… wait…

“Ah yes!” The man gasped, “Mr. Morningstar, your table as usual?”

“Please.”

The man fidgeted with his keyboard, typing in the information, before grabbing two menus and seating the both of you at a window table in the corner of the room. Lucifer pulled out your chair, and you couldn’t help but dramatically grasp at your collarbone, faux-swooning. 

“Why thank you, Lucifer,” you smirked. 

“M’lady,” he bowed slightly before sitting himself. A server approached you. 

“Mr. Morningstar, good evening. How can I get you started?”

“Just water,” he mumbled, gesturing to you. 

“Water, thank you.” She nodded, briefly pausing to light the candle before strolling off to the kitchen. You took a moment to absorb the place. The atmosphere reminded you of something familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. The brick detailing, the tea candles, the wispy drapes and olive green, cushioned chairs. The air tasted like pepper and vinegar and tomato sauce. It was warm and old and beautiful.

“You look a bit lost,” he said quietly, his eyes looking down at the menu. Like you were a children’s painting and he was an eager-to-please father. Like he knew how you looked without looking. 

“I’m not lost,” you retorted. “I actually have the profound feeling of being right where I need to be.” Your eyes wandered. 

“How poetic,” Lucifer said, smiling. 

You shook your head, ignoring your own ramblings, hoping he would too. “So, do you bring all your girls here?”

“Are you one of them?”

“Oh of course not, I just like to know how used a chair is before I sit in it.”

He chuckled, “Well, you are already sitting.”

You hid behind your menu, but you were smiling. Your chest felt quick and flighty, like a hummingbird was trapped in your rib cage. 

Lucifer sighed, resting his head on his hand, “I don’t bring anyone here, actually.”

Your eyes darted up to look at him. He was completely pokerfaced, eyes still looking at the menu. Although, you had a feeling that he had it memorized. Ah yes, restaurant menus. The ultimate social escape. 

Your server… Caroline… came back with your waters, setting them down delicately on coasters. “Ready to order?” She asked, smiling sweetly. 

Lucifer nodded at you, eyes finally meeting, “You first, love.”

“Rigatoni alla genovese with panna cotta, so, red wine? How about a bottle of zinfandel?”

Caroline scribbled down your order, a bit shocked at your knowledge. You looked at Lucifer, who was dumbfoundedly staring at you, slack-jawed. He nodded, looking up at your waiter. “I’ll have the same, I suppose.”

She smiled, taking your menus. Lucifer leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, “Well, color me red and call me diavolo, if I’d have known you knew so much about food, I would’ve made this a trip instead of a walk.”

“I don’t know that much, really. Just wine pairings, basic cheese ratios and a number of tiramisu recipes.”

“Why all the studying?” He leaned in, completely encompassed. 

“It’s not studying. My,” you hesitated. “My dad. He really liked to cook.”

“Well, Remy, any other tricks you’ve got up your toque blanche?”

“Remy didn’t wear a hat, you’re thinking of Linguini. And nothing, really. I just have lots of interests outside of the business world.”

Lucifer smiled. “I never would’ve guessed.”

“Well,” you crossed your legs and folded your arms. “Maybe if your sidekick had done more digging, you would’ve known that.”

Lucifer reacted like you’d slapped him… again. He frowned and his eyebrows furrowed. “About that….”

“Oh, so now you admit it? It’s not just “my girlfriend is out of control.””

“She isn’t my girlfriend,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, maybe I needed to know who you were-“ He held up his hands as you began to protest, “Now listen! There are things about you that I cannot explain, no matter how much reasoning I try to do. None of it makes any sense.”

You scoffed. “Like what?”

“Asking me what I needed?” He clenched his jaw, visibly uncomfortable. “That’s supposed to be my party trick. Except I ask what people desire… And they tell me. Because I’m the devil.” He looked at you like he was trying to read a sign that was too far to see. Borderline accusatory. 

You laughed dryly, “So what? You think that it was just another day for me, Satan? I probably have twice as many questions to ask as you do.” Your hand twitched, and you clutched it beneath the table to control the trembling. 

“Oh yeah?” He was stage whispering now, eyes darting at the other people in the restaurant. He obviously didn’t want to make a scene. Is that why he brought you here? “You’re going to keep pretending like you don’t know what’s going on?” 

Somehow, you were offended. “Seriously? Lucifer Morningstar, I am so confused. And honestly, I’m scared.” You were talking through closed teeth now, “I broke a window. A bullet proof, shatter proof, reinforced window. I didn’t even hurt my hand!” You held it up and shook it like a slap-comedy prop.

He stared at you, eyes darting around your face. You felt like you were under examination and you didn’t like it. So you stood up, and headed for the door. Tears were brimming in your eyes. You were feeling a lot of different emotions- You hated that he brought you here just to prevent himself from getting hurt, you hated that he sent someone to spy on you, you hated that he had a someone, you hated that you hated that. What’s wrong with you? You idiot! You thought you were special? You’re not. You’re nothing. And he doesn’t care. Walk out now. Nothing is stopping you.

“F/n! Wait-“

You pushed the door open and stepped out into the frigid air. It was just beginning to rain. “How fucking appropriate.” Your feet moved without you having to do a thing. Your mind wandered, and your feet just… Walked away. You could hear him yelling for you to turn around. To look at him. His footsteps were approaching. 

Then a hand grabbed your arm, and something cold was being held against your head.

“F/N! Don’t move!” Lucifer was ten feet from you, and someone else was holding you from behind. “Don’t move, whatever you do, don’t move.”

“Your money, NOW!” His breath was hot and smelled of liquor. You were paralyzed. Lucifer took a step forward. Your breath hitched and tears rolled down your cheeks. 

“Please, let her go, I’ll give you-“

“All your money, right now, or I pull this trigger and she goes down.”

Lucifer took another step. His eyes were so concerned. Time began to slow, and for no real reason other than instinct, you turned and swung your free hand at the man. A shot rung out. You braced yourself, then punched him in the chest, screaming. Lucifer’s voice echoed behind you as you watched the man’s face contort. He was young. Young and flying. You watched as the life drained from his blue eyes. He crashed into the middle of the street, about fifteen feet from you, then slid to a stop. The streetlight burst, and glass flew onto the adjacent sidewalk. People inside the restaurant stood, shocked. Lucifer stepped towards you, but didn’t say anything. No one said anything. You covered your mouth with both hands, a fit of shaking engulfing you. The ground felt like it was spinning, and you couldn’t help but fall to your knees. Sobs shook you to your core. Lucifer kneeled beside you, and your throat clenched as he pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you. Your body gave into gravity and went limp in his arms. You felt small. The air was cold. The rain was colder. 

God. What had you done?

Chapter Text

You clutched your arm. Blood seeped through your fingers.

It was thick and red.

His eyes. Oh God, his eyes.

You could faintly hear Lucifer shouting, then the approach of sirens. His arms were still wrapped around you. The cement was cold. Rain seeped into your clothes. 

He has such beautiful eyes.

Police cars and ambulances quickly filled the street. You looked at the man in the road. He was laying in a pool of blood. And there was so much. There was so, so much blood. It pooled out from his mouth. His leg was broken. He was mangled, like he’d been discarded. 

Had…

You were moving. Were you walking? Lucifer was guiding you to an ambulance. 

She’s in shock. I don’t think she needs a hospital but she’s been hit. Should we call anyone? F/n, is there someone we should call? She’s not going to answer any of your questions, look at her! Let’s get her wrapped up. Come sit here, ma’am. What was her name? F/n. F/n. Lovely name. How’re you doing? F/n? Can you look at me.

Have you ever been at the bottom of a pool. It takes real talent to lie face up at the bottom of a pool. You can’t have any air in your lungs. You have to keep your eyes open. But the light. The light makes it worth it. The ripples, the distortion. The silence. It’s peaceful. 

There's nothing more peaceful than being just at the brink of death.

I wonder if that’s how he felt.

Your lungs were empty, and your veins were full of lead. But the world around you just kept rolling. Lucifer stood beside you. You were sitting in an ambulance, legs dangling over the edge. An EMT was bandaging your arm. He kept saying something to Lucifer, but Lucifer didn’t respond. He just stared at you. Like his eyes were flashlights and you were a dark hallway. Like he thought he’d see something.

       All you could think about was the sound of the man's ribs cracking.

You looked up at him. He didn’t look away. The two of you just stared at each other until tears started to drip down your cheeks.

“F/n…” He reached out, but you flinched. He didn’t even have to touch you. Your eyes followed a mosquito to the ground; how could you look at him?

Lucifer was momentarily torn away by the call of his name. He pocketed his hands and looked towards an approaching woman. She wore a leather jacket and jeans, her blonde hair pulled up into a messy ponytail. She’d just put away her phone. Her eyes bore into you. The conviction she wore was all too familiar.

“Lucifer, can I borrow you for a moment?” She spoke with clenched teeth.

“I-“

“Now!” She grabbed his elbow.

“Detective!”

You watched as she pulled Lucifer aside, just out of earshot. She gestured angrily, or, with a sort of frustration, at the body. The body. Lucifer stood silent until she’d finished scolding him. 

She was defending herself.

That’s fine. We have evidence of gunshots. But why is he ten feet from where she pushed him?

Perhaps she's been working out.

Don’t lie to me, Lucifer. Do not lie to me. 

I’m not. It was a good hit-

Can I trust her? Can you?

About as much as she can throw that guy… So yes, quite a bit.

Lucifer… 

What? Sorry, inappropriate?

Who the hell is she?

No one you need to watch out for. Or arrest.

Is she a prostitute or something? A Britney? Did you-

No! Why do you always assume the worst!

It’s my job.

Look- She’s a colleague. I took her out to dinner. That’s all. Nothing more. Just a colleague.

You looked away. Reading lips always was a suspicious process. The cops were already looking at you weird.

“Hey, I know you’re in shock, but if you need to talk, to say anything, I know a good psychologist.” You’d totally forgotten about the EMT. He was packing up his bandages. You looked at him with whatever sincerity you had left.

“I don’t have anything to say.” You didn’t recognize your own voice.

He nodded. “That’s okay.” Then he hopped out of the ambulance and jogged over to the crowd of police. It was just another day for him.

Lucifer and the detective returned to you. She tilted her head as she approached, with the demeanor of a bird, her eyes softening. 

“F/n? My name is Chloe Decker,” she smiled, “I’m a detective. Can I ask you some questions?”

You met her eyes. “Just do your job. I’m compliant.”

She looked surprised by your answer. Detective Decker folded her hands in front of her and continued, “Thank you… Um, let’s start from the beginning. Why were you here with Mr. Morningstar?”

“He took me to dinner.”

“There were reports of an altercation between the two of you. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“What were you fighting about?”

“That’s personal.”

“Of course,” she looked at Lucifer briefly. He shrugged. “Witnesses say you stormed out. What happened after that?”

“I left the restaurant, I stepped out onto the sidewalk, and then a man grabbed me and held me at gunpoint.”

She nodded, “Why do you think he did that?”

"Well, he was demanding money, so I assume that had something to do with it."

"How did you know it was a gun?"

"He threatened to fire, and you can't exactly shoot a knife." You knew she had to be thorough, but come on. You felt badgered. 

"How many shots did you hear?" She looked briefly at your arm. 

"Just one," you hesitated, "Were there more?"

She shifted, "Two shots were fired, from what we can gather. You're sure you didn't hear the second one?"

Your brows furrowed, "He fired right by my ear, so it's possible that I couldn't hear it."

Chloe nodded, rubbing the back of her neck as she put everything together. 

"Anything else?" You felt like a child talking to her in your current state. 

"No, thank you, Miss l/n. You were extremely helpful." You smiled at you before walking towards the crime scene. She paused, giving Lucifer a look.

"I'll stay here, detective," he said, waving her on. She shook her head.

You looked down at your hands. They were coated in dried blood. You scraped at it with your finger nails, sighing. 

"I ought to replace that dress," Lucifer mumbled, gesturing to your clothes. Your beautiful white dress had blood stains running down the side, and mud on the front from when you'd let the ground take you. A few seams had popped loose. You figured it was from the massive force that emitted from your small body.

"You don't need to do that, Ren will take care of it."

Lucifer leaned in, pushing his chin forward, and fidgeted with his sleeve. "Who?"

"Me." A voice came from your right, and footsteps approached. You hadn't even noticed his car pull up. Ren walked to you, very quickly, like he were fighting off the urge to sprint. His hair was free of gel, shirt buttoned haphazardly, his slacks unironed, maybe from the day before. He didn't wear a jacket or socks, and his shoes were different colors. 

"Ren-"

He shook his head, wrapping his arms around you. You winced at the pain in your arm, and as soon as you did he let go. 

"Oh f/n, I'm so sorry. Are you alright? I was going to bring some tea or a blanket but I was so out of it when I heard and I rushed over because my god if something happened to you Idon'tknowwhatI'ddowithmyselfbecau-"

"Ren, Ren breathe." You took in a deep breath to help him regain his composure. As soon as his lungs were full of air, he kept going.

"And you," he jabbed a finger at Lucifer. "I'm going to sue you for everything you've ever had, ever wanted, ever thought of, you irresponsible chaos bringing madman. You'll be locked up so fast that you won't even remember what palm trees look like. And trust me, I've got a very different jacket in mind for you, you son of a-"

"Careful, wouldn't want to insult anyone important," Lucifer said through a smile, pointing at the sky.

Ren huffed, grabbing your arm and helping you as you hopped from the truck. The blanket you had wrapped around your shoulders slipped off and fell onto the wet pavement. A draft of cold air hit your exposed back, causing a chill to sink into your bones. Your body didn't even have the energy to shiver, so you walked, freezing, with Ren to his car. It felt like your legs were weighed down, and with each step they got heavier. 

Lucifer followed closely behind you, until Ren let go of your arm and unlocked his car. He walked around to the passenger side, waiting for you to follow him. Right then his phone rang, and he groaned. Ren answered it. Because taking care of you wasn't in his job description.

"F/n," Lucifer put a hand delicately on your arm. His hands were so warm. "It would be such a shame if you left this world was because of a breeze."

You turned to look at him. He was holding his jacket towards you. A smile lit up your face, and you almost laughed as you stepped into it. He wrapped it around your shoulders.

"Just as I replace it. You've got to start keeping your clothes on."

He laughed, "Never."

You shook your head, glancing over at Ren, who had wandered away from the car. Even from a distance you could tell there was something on his mind, the phone call obviously frustrating.

"Lovely," Lucifer mumbled, drawing your attention back to him. He held your shoulders. All you could do was stand there and smile. "You're truly lovely."

"Even like this? Blood stained, heartbroken, and emotionally unavailable?"

"I actually think I like you better this way," he said, grinning. His face softened a moment after, and his voice took a more serious tone. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."

"I got shot. My feelings are the least of my worries."

He chuckled. His voice was raspy like he'd been shouting at something. Or someone.

"I shouldn't have said the things I did. And I should've done something to save you. I hate leaving things in my dad's hands."

A confused look fluttered across your face, "What a strange thing to say."

"You have no idea how often I get that," he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. His other arm had fallen to his side.

You reached for his hand, gently grasping it. 

"F/n! We need to get going," Ren shouted, ending the call on his phone. 

You glanced up at Lucifer, "Thank you."

His brows furrowed, but he didn't say anything. He just watched you, lips parted, eyes darting about your face.

"I know you feel like you didn't do what you could've, but don't for a moment feel like you did nothing," your voice was practically a whisper, and you could tell that Lucifer was clinging to every word. Without saying a thing, he lifted your hand and pressed it to his lips. The two of you were frozen like that for a fleeting second before you pulled away. His eyes followed you as you circled the car. Your eyes met once more before you ducked into the passenger seat. There was a gripping sense of longing that resided in your chest. You were attached to him somehow. You could feel it.

Lucifer stepped back from the car as Ren pulled away. He watched you, hands in his pockets. You could've sworn that something flashed in his eyes, something deep and red. Like a promise. And that feeling you had before you entered Lux, the feeling like you'd get yourself wrapped up in something, that feeling returned. But you knew you already had. It was too late to turn back now. 

Far, far too late.

Chapter Text

The first few minutes were filled with total silence. You figured that Ren was too shocked to bother trying to talk to you. You couldn’t get the image of him out of your mind, disheveled, concerned. A broken man, standing before you. You’d never seen him so torn up.

You couldn’t help but glance at him. His hair hung slightly in his face, his hands white as he gripped the steering wheel. You wouldn’t be surprised if blistered developed on his palms. Half way through the drive, he cleared his throat. Your eyes were focused on the car lights in front of you, the windshield lightly sprinkled with water droplets. Every light looked like a star. 

“F/n…” Ren looked at you earnestly. Your chest ached, and you couldn’t bare to look at him. Who were you to look at him? 

He sighed. “I’m not asking you what happened, I’m not asking you to tell me about it, I’m not going to ask why you went to dinner with Lucifer, I’m not going to push you to tell me anything you don’t want to but…” He shook his head. His eyes bore out onto the road. “I just don’t understand why you’re putting yourself into all of this danger.”

Your throat was painfully dry. Your eyes stung, but no tears came. There was a scream trapped within you, somewhere behind your sternum.

“I’m as lost as you are,” you mumbled. You were suddenly exhausted. 

“I’m not lost. I’m just… turned around. I keep trying to find you, but you keep… You keep running away.”

“I’m not running.”

“Well you’re sure as hell not standing still.” You could hear the pain in his voice. Guilt swept over you, but there was twice as much anger. Why was he making this about him?

As if someone had flipped a switch, it all pooled out of you. The frustration, the confusion. You shouted, “I’m not fucking running from anything, Ren. Have you ever thought that maybe I’m lonely? That maybe I live in a world where everything is completely black and white. It’s all the same. It’s always been the same to me. And then, and then he just comes along and paints the town red. Lucifer fucking Morningstar just walks in like the entire universe is a Van Gogh, Monet lovechild that he refuses to ignore. Like everyone else is an idiot for not seeing the stage that he’s standing on,” you sucked in a breath and started laughing, “He thinks he’s… He’s my savior? Not because I need to be saved, no, he just needs to save someone. There’s no princess, there’s no tower, there’s just Lucifer, his spotlight, and everyone else. We’re supposed to applaud. Because it’s unimaginable that he’d be normal.”

Ren was stunned. He pulled around to the front of EXIT and parked, starting just as you swung the door open. “I don’t care how you feel about him! You just-“

“WHAT REN?! I JUST WHAT? DON’T FEEL ANYTHING FOR YOU? I GOT SHOT. AND IT WASN’T BECAUSE LUCIFER MADE IT HAPPEN. IT DIDN’T HAPPEN TO ME. IT HAPPENED FOR HIM. I GOT SHOT, REN.” You were crying now, hand gripping your shoulder. The rain had thickened. “I got shot…” Your knees bent. You weren’t sure what to do with your hands so you just held the sides of your head, sobs tearing loudly up your throat. Ren took a step towards you like he wanted to comfort you, but he stopped. He retraced, walking back to the side of his car, and got in. He started the engine and drove away. 

You watched his headlights fade, clutching a hand over your mouth, trying vainly to quiet yourself. A part of you wished that that bullet had hit an artery. You tilted your head back, rain hitting your face. It hurt, and all you could do was scream. You screamed until your throat gave out and all that was left was pitiful gasps for air. You stood, face upturned toward the sky, eyes closed, for who knows how long. Eventually you turned to the front of the club. Legs moving without conscious thought, you stepped towards EXIT, shakily unlocking the door. 

You’d completely forgotten that you wore Lucifer’s jacket, still draped around your shoulders. You threw it off of you, storming achingly to the bar. You poured yourself a shot of whiskey. It burned, but it pulled you back down to Earth. You swept a stray hair from out of your eyes. The club was quiet. You weren’t even sure what time it was. 4AM? 3? Usually, people started leaving around 2, and there wasn’t a soul there. It was nice. The air reached of liquor and sweat, perfume and sex. Twinkling lights just barely kept the main room lit. Sitting at the bar, you looked out on everything that you’d created. Staring truly exhausted you, and nothing sounded better than your bed right now. An eventful night deserved an uneventful end. 

Stairs sucked. Maybe you’d get an elevator. Too expensive. You clutched the railing as you made your way up to your half-penthouse. The stairs allowed you a moment to think. You still hadn’t processed what had happened, and now that the night was fading, you could allow yourself to think. The force you emitted in order the push that man still confused you. And- oh..

The scene flashed briefly before you. Maybe it was still too soon to bother trying to apply any logic to the situation. You’d probably need therapy. 

As you reached the top of the stairs, you noticed that your door was a crack open. 

“Fucking…” You shook your head, “Mazikeen, I swear…”

You pushed it open, glancing around. It took your eyes a moment to notice the figure standing in front of the window, looking out at the city. His back was to you. He ran a hand on the cracks of the glass. 

“Hello?” You felt stupid echoing the horror movie cliche. 

“Hello.” His voice was deep. He had a lean figure. Definitely not Maze…

“Who-“

Before you could finish your sentence, he was walking towards you. Adrenaline rushed through your bloodstream, and all you could think was, this has to be some sort of sign. I’m just meant to die tonight. 

Before you could finished your sentence, he was inches from you. In your weak peripheral, you watched him raise his arm. 

Everything went black.

Chapter Text

The wind whipped your hair around. It flew into your face and eyes and mouth, and your attempts to bat it away were rendered completely void. 

“Roll up your window, dad!” You screeched between laughs. 

“Alright, alright. But if it gets too hot, I’m not rolling it back down,” he said through a smile, cracking the window up. 

“Why doesn’t your car have ack?”

“Ack?”

“The thing that makes the air cold,” your little hands flailed as you tried to explain.

He let out a deep chuckle, “The air conditioning?”

“Yeah, we should get one of that.”

“One of those,” your father corrected you. He laid a hand on your head. “This car’s a classic, green bean. Back when it was made, it wasn’t as common for cars to have AC.”

“AC?”

Ack.” He grinned at you, and you grinned back up at him. The sun was low, and air was warm, and you felt as if you could fall asleep. You couldn’t remember exactly where you were. Dessert spread out around you, surrounding the car on both sides. Mountains sat far off in the distance. 

You slouched down in the seat, watched the cactus and occasional palm float by. You liked to imagine that the car was still, and that everything else moved quickly past. Like you were the immovable object. 

Father was humming. Humming something sweet and just on the brink of your memory. It went high, and then it went low. He had a lovely  voice. You wish you could sing like that. 

“You can sweetheart. All you have to do is practice.”

You didn’t want to practice. But you didn’t really know what you wanted to do in the first place. 

“You better figure it out, kiddo. You practice, or you become nothing in life. If you don’t work you won’t do anything.”

That made you sad, but you didn’t say anything to object. He was probably right. He was right about everything. Father seemed to know what he was doing most of the time. You wondered if that’s why mother married him. 

He hummed on for a while. The cactus kept passing. Dust flew around behind you. The car would need to be cleaned.

“Sweetheart, could you call your mother for me? Let her know we’re nearly to the house?”

You nodded, grabbing his cell phone as he handed it to you. Were you close to the house? 

As you stared at the tiny screen, you tried to remember the number. You were so focused, you didn’t notice the trees appear around you. You didn’t hear the kids playing in their yards, you didn’t see the suburban streets, and you didn’t smell the cookout down the block. You just stared at the phone. 

“What’s the number?”

“Can’t you remember?” A voice echoed behind your ear. “Why can’t you remember?”

“What’s the number? I can’t…” You shook your head. Why couldn’t you remember?

“You can do it. Just think real hard.” The voice was clear and crisp now. Was someone in the car?

“Gimme the first three number, please? I’ll know the rest.”

“Alright,” a hand rested on your shoulder. You turned around. Red eyes glared down at you. Everything else seemed to fade away. The sky, the clouds, the car, your father. You could still hear his faint humming, but that vanished too. It was just you and the devil. He was all you could really… really remember. Lucifer grinned widely at your trembling hands, pointing delicately at the small phone. Then he looked down at you, his eyes boring into yours. You couldn’t look away. You felt as if you were locked away somewhere infinite. 

“Roll down the window… I can’t remember… mother… the first three, please?”

Six six six.

 

— — — 

 

You woke up on your couch, groggy and completely disoriented. Light filtered through the windows. It had to be almost noon. 

The smell of cologne and cigarette smoke wafted toward you as a cool draft unstuck your sweat-coated shirt from your body. You were completely drenched. Your hair, your clothes. Eyes still half closed, you swung your legs over the edge of the couch. Immediately, the edge of the coffee table collided with your shin, and that’s the moment you knew you weren’t at home. 

Eyes wide and breath shallow, you stood abruptly, cussing under your breath at the pain of the table. You fought off the urge to clutch your leg. There’d definitely be a bruise, if not a fracture. 

“It’s probably not that bad, stop over-exaggerating,” you grumbled at yourself. You were in an apartment- no, a penthouse. Someone’s very lavish penthouse. Memories of the moments before you were here began to flood back to you. The man, who was that man? Who the hell was that man? 

“I’ve been kidnapped,” you whispered. “Oh shit, oh fuck.” You swiveled. There weren’t many doors, not a lot of places to hide. You ran to the only exit you could see: the elevator. You slammed the down button over and over and over and over and over but nothing happened. Next, you shot across the room to the window, trying to be quiet but quick. You pressed your hands to the glass in a vain attempt to steady yourself before staring out at the city. You were still in LA. In fact, the streets below you almost looked familiar… As if you’d walked on them before. 

Your brows furrowed as you tried to put the pieces together. Your head just kept pounding, it was hard to think. You squeezed your eyes shut before taking one more look outside. Something glinted at you from below-

“MY CAR!” Everything hit you all at once. The smells, the styles, the streets, the location- your car parked on the street below you, neatly shined with a giant bow. You felt like screaming. You wanted to shout until he’d have to come up here and fucking explain himself. But you didn’t. You decided that you’d take full advantage of the space. 

And the first thing you were going to do was find the most expensive bottle of liquor.

Chapter Text

You had to admit that Lucifer’s penthouse was nice. A little dark for your tastes. And you didn’t really see the point of having a fully stocked bar in your living room. Well, at least until now.

The liquor burned as it went down your throat. You couldn’t even stomach it properly. Cringing, you set the glass down on the counter and pushed it away from you. It hadn’t been that long since you woke up, but it felt like forever. Your body was heavy and your muscles were sore. Maybe you needed a shower. Would that be weird? To just take a shower in Lucifer’s penthouse? After your kidnapping? Probably not, right?

You figured that it couldn’t hurt. Besides, you smelled awful. Whatever lucid night terror that had disrupted your sleep had left you sweaty and uncomfortable. Your eyes wandered around, searching for a bathroom. Standing up from the stool you’d been sitting on, you walked weakly to an opening left of the bar. Stone walls with ancient writings and dainty lights decorated a luxurious room.

Lucifer’s bedroom. 

It was expensive, but it was simple. Black sheets, dark pillow, silky curtains covering a floor to ceiling window. A chair sat in the corner, facing the bed. 

Why on Earth would he put that there?

You answered your own questions immediately, reacting with something between a laugh and a groan. You looked around spotting yet another entrance. Finally, the bathroom. You were imagining the feeling of hot water now, and it was as if you’d seen heaven. Absolutely nothing sounded better. 

An enormous mirror took up most of the right wall, opposite the shower. You looked at yourself. You still wore the dress from the night before, covered in blood. Your hair was greasy and tangled. Bruises covered your arms. Buried underneath the shock was a bit of disappointment. He could’ve at least cleaned you up while you were passed out.

Your eyes wandered to the bandage on your arm. You pressed on it, and pain shot through your upper body. Hands trembling, you peeled it off. It hurt. A lot. A huge dent was the evidence you were left with, like someone had taken a spoon to your arm. It was yellow and gross, practically infected. It burned and stung. You turned on the sink and did your best to clean it. There were various cabinets under the dark marble countertop, and after a minute of looking, you managed to locate a first-aid kit. You wrapped it up again and sighed. He could’ve at least cleaned this.

Shaking your head, you peeled off the dress. Steam filled the room seconds after you turned on the shower. You stepped in, appreciating the waterfall shower-head. There was a panel with different settings and buttons. You figured you shouldn’t mess with anything. 

Lathering up a handful of body wash (old spice, surprisingly), you started scrubbing. You stepped out briefly to grab a hand towel. Dirt was practically engrained in your skin. You’d never felt so gross. By the time you got it all off, your skin was raw. Next, you tackled your hair, which took even more time. 

It felt like you were in there for too long, the same way a red light or a statistics class feels too long. Your mind made up for it by wandering aimlessly. Was last night real? What had you dreamt about? Who was the man in your living room? Had he hit you? You pressed lightly around your head, feelings no cuts or bruises. Maybe Lucifer had sent him? Why would he do that? You just couldn’t wrap your head around the situation. He could’ve called. If we wanted to see you, he should’ve called. Or sent an extravagant bouquet of flowers. Or a note. Or his bartender. Anything other than assaulting and kidnapping you. The more you thought about it, the more messed up it seemed, and the angrier you got. How could he do this to you? How dare he do this to you?

You turned your head up, letting the water wash away all the suds. You turned the shower off, reaching for a towel and stepping out. You dried off briefly before wrapping the towel around your body. Water droplets dripped from your hair onto your shoulders. It was cold. Immediately upon re-entering the bedroom, you spotted his closet. Leaving a trial of wet footprints, you wandered to it, peaking in. It was a walk in, of course. 

There was no way that any of his clothes would fit you, but there had to be a lost-and-found. He brought home so many women home, many of whom were probably too hung over or too in a hurry to remember every single thing they’d dropped on the way in.

Unsurprisingly, there was. A pile in the corner. Little black dresses, shoes, bras, underwear. You dug through it. It all seemed to have been cleaned. Why’d he even keep it all? There wasn’t any reason you could see… Unless your situation happened frequently. You hoped not. Ew.

There wasn’t a bra in your size, so you settled for a little black dress with some support. Slipping on a pair of lacy underwear (the most normal pair you could find), you pulled the tight dress up over your hips. It had a deep v-neck that was laced up and long sleeves. You glanced at a full length mirror that stood in the opposite corner. It wasn’t your style, but you looked pretty good. 

But you were freezing. 

Eyes searching the open shelves, you tried to find a jacket that wasn’t a blazer. Did he only wear suits? You ran your hands across everything. After a few minutes, you found it. A flannel. It looked like it hadn’t been worn in years

“Wow Lucifer, hipster much?” You laughed to yourself, slipping it on. It was black and red. You tried for a moment to imagine him in it. You couldn’t. Lips pressed together, you took another stroll around his closet. He had so much stuff. Jackets, pants, dress shirts. On and on and on. It was practically a boutique. Your eyes fell on a familiar blazer, hung neatly on a hanger that was mounted in the wall. Closer inspection revealed that it was the one you had bought him. Your heart sung. Not only did he hang it up, it was closest to the door. You wondered how often he wore it, and if he wore it with you in mind. The moment your mind began to drift in a less-than-nihilistic direction, you scolded yourself internally. He was a monster. You refused to give in to your Stockholm’s syndrome ideologies. 

You left the closet, pushing away the thought that Lucifer might actually be a good person. You didn’t know what to do with your dress, so you picked it up and set it on the bathroom counter. After scrubbing your teeth with your finger and some toothpaste, you walked back out to the living room, humming. 

“Well, finally,” an exhausted sounding voice said from the couch.

You turned, surprised. How long had he been here?

“Before you start shouting at me, I’m… sorry. Just, for everything.” Lucifer waved his hands at you as he stood, “But I need you to understand that I didn’t want you here-“

“OH, thanks,” you said, sarcasm heavy. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“No, look, f/n, it’s not like that, I just-“ he stumbled over his words, catching your arm as you attempted to make your way to the elevator. “First of all, where’d you find this thing?” He gestured at the flannel. “Second, my brother brought you here. It wasn’t me. I came home and you were passed out on the couch. I tried to wake you up, but you were out like a light, love. And you snore.”

“Don’t fucking call me that. And I don’t snore- And let go of me! I don’t remember getting a callback for American Psycho, you posh paperclip. Let me go-“ You fought his grip. He released your arm, and you stumbled backwards.

“You don’t even have shoes on.”

“I’d rather walk home, feet bleeding, than stay here with you.”

He looked defeated, for just a moment, before rage filled his face. He stepped towards you, “I. DID. NOT. BRING. YOU. HERE.” He shoved a finger at you, enunciating each word. 

“I did.”

Both of you turned. Another man stood in the corner of the room. He was strongly built, tall, and menacing. Something about him seemed extremely familiar. Most strikingly, he wore a grey cloak and arm bands. Your eyes widened with realization. You turned to Lucifer, who was glaring at him, distaste in his expression. He looked completely infuriated. His arm was slightly in front of you, entirely absorbed in a subconscious protective stance. 

“Amenadiel, if you take another step…”

“You’ll what, smite me? Please,” the other man walked towards you. 

“Stop.”

“Lucifer, this isn’t your problem. 

“She’s a part of my life, it’s entirely my problem.”

You were getting more and more confused. “Okay,” your voice squeaked out. You felt so small. You cleared your throat, “Someone tell me what’s going on. I refuse to be a part of some fucking role-play.”

Both men looked at you in shock. Lucifer scoffed. Amenadiel gawked at you, brows furrowing. “I’m sorry?”

“Whatever the hell you two are into, I’m not having it. This is some fifty shades bullshit- I’m leaving.” 

“Oh, no. Absolutely not that is not what this-“ Lucifer put a hand on your shoulder, turning you back around. “That’s not what this is.”

“How-“ You started.

“No, no no.” He continued to protest, disgusted. 

“But-“

“F/n, this is-“

“I’m sorry, do you not know what we are?” Amenadiel pointed at Lucifer.

“Don’t you dare say we-“

“You’re fucking or something? Look, that’s totally fine, you have every right to-“

“NO-“

“Stop denying-“

“STOP TALKING,” Amenadiel was pinching the bridge of his nose. Both you and Lucifer froze, arms entangled, eyes wide. “You mean to tell me that you had the impression we’re… partners?”

Lucifer cringed, stepping away from you in discomfort. 

“Is that not… Then what are you two?”

BROTHERS,” they shouted simultaneously. 

“And I’m here because…”

“Because our father unintentionally created you wen he exiled Lucifer from heaven. The two of you were never supposed to meet. I’ve been sent to kill you.”

You had absolutely no idea how to respond to that. You were… you were what? Stifling a laugh, you untangled yourself from Lucifer, pulling away from his arms which were trying so desperately to keep you away from the elevator. 

“This is a joke, right?”

“No. Now if Lucifer would let me do my job, this can all be over with.”

“Damn it Amenadiel, she’s a person.”

“Since when do you care about people, brother? Have you really become so attached to these things?”

“These things?” You were so confused. All you wanted was to go home and sleep.

The two of them bickered on, and you walked to the couch and sat down, head in your hands. It felt like your mind was pounding against the inside of your skull. After a while (you’d tuned them out), a weight sat beside you. Lucifer leaned forward, “Are you alright?”

“Would you be,” you mumbled. It was a statement, not a question, because he knew the answer. 

Amenadiel stood near a chair opposite you, arms crossed. 

“Look, I know this is confusing, not a lot of people tend to believe me-“

“Because you’re lying! The two of you are absolutely insane! I just want to leave,” you were on the brink of tears, and your voice cracked. “I want to go home. I don’t want to be a part of this. I don’t want to be here.” You were so frustrated. You felt like a pawn. Nothing was real. Nothing mattered. You stared at your hands, which shook like leaves in the wind.

“Would it help if I explained everything?” Lucifer’s voice was soft. “But only if you’ll listen. Only if I can prove it to you.”

You didn’t respond. 

He sighed. “I think I will anyway,” there was a second of silence. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Typical,” Amenadiel mumbled. Lucifer shot him a look. 

“I’ll just start with my name.”

 

— — — 

 

Everything he said sounded like bullshit. He wasn’t the devil. He didn’t rule hell. He didn’t leave hell to live amongst humanity. He didn’t have incredible strength. Or wings. Or horns. None of it was real. None of it. But you let him keep trying to convince you, you didn’t interrupt a single time. He went on and on with incredible detail about angelic wars and the creation of humanity, about heaven and hell. You sat on the couch, never moving an inch. Amenadiel (if that was even his real name) sat down, watching you cautiously, like you were the crazy one. You didn’t like him. 

“…long, didn’t read, now I’m here. Which is exactly where I’d like to stay,” he finished, casting a dirty look at his brother, who in return, did nothing.

You nodded, laughing in breaths through your nose. There was a long pause. The air conditioner rattled in the background. Birds fluttered around outside the window. Shadows were created by the movement of clouds over the sun. Somewhere, grass grew. You thought. You thought for a while, and the two of them let you. After some time, some grass growth, some cloud movement, some rattling, you nodded and sat back. They stared at you, waiting to hear what you had to say. For the first time in the past hour, Amenadiel uncrossed his arms expectantly. You met Lucifer's eyes. 

“Bullshit.”

Chapter Text

Amenadiel clutched his stomach, throwing his head back in laughter. 

That’s all you have to say?!” Lucifer clenched his teeth and spoke in a series of hissing noises. 

“You really expect me to believe you ruled hell? Or fell from heaven? Like, why didn’t you just fly back up?”

“Fly back-“ He shook his head, dumbfounded. “My dad is God.”

“So?”

Amenadiel was wiping tears from his eyes. 

“This is ridiculous.”

“You have wings, right? Where are they?” You were toying with him now. Poor guy. Who hurt him?

He stared at you. “No.”

“No? But-“

“But they went away. And I destroyed them,” he stared at his hands. Amenadiel had stopped laughing now, the smile fading from his face. You glanced at the floor. 

“You two are really going the extra mile, huh?” You ran your hands through your hair, “I’m impressed.”

“Faking is easy when you’re telling the truth,” Lucifer sneered, standing. He straightened his blazer and adjusted his cuff, as he often did. You were beginning to think it was some kind of nervous tick he had. 

After a moment of hesitation and shirt fixing, he looked at Amenadiel, then at you, then back at Amenadiel. You watched him walk to the bar, pause, run a hand through his hair. He looked back at you, then back at the bar. What was he looking for?

He circled the counter, digging through the cabinets below. You heard the sound of glass clinking and metal tapping against wood. Your eyes wandered, and met with the other man’s. The two of you held awkward, silent, prolonged eye-contact until you heard Lucifer’s steps approaching.

He had two wine glasses and a thumb-tack. You couldn’t help but snicker at him. He’d officially lost it. The suave man who’d taken you to dinner and watched you strip during a meeting had been replaced by a mad man who was nothing but…

Desperate. 

“Okay,” he mumbled. “You can’t hurt me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I don’t bleed, I can’t be injured by most human things. Including you.“

“Unless she’s like Chloe,” Amenadiel interrupted.

“I’m not following…” You looked back and forth between them. Lucifer grabbed a wine glass and held it in his hand. You waited expectantly. Then, as if it were made of tinfoil, he crushed it. It shattered. You screamed. 

“Oh, hush,” he opened his hand, tiny pieces floating down to the ground. He opened his hand to you. There wasn’t a single scratch. “If you still don’t believe me, go ahead and toss one.”

You waved your hands, “No no no, no need. Please don’t do that again.”

“Alright then, thumb tack it is-“

“Lucifer please stop.” You were trembling. It wasn’t the glass. It wasn’t his David Blaine magic tricks. It was his desperation that jarred you. 

“If this is too much for you, I’d be happy to put you out of your-“

No.” Lucifer glared at his brother.

Amenadiel rolled his eyes, “How about a choice? Does that seem fair?”

Your eyes had totally glazed over. Lucifer snapped his fingers a few times to regain your attention. “A choice?”

“I’ll explain everything, and then we’ll figure out what you want to do. Move away, come with me to heaven, imminent death…”

It felt like the world’s gravity had depleted, and you were floating far away. You could look down and see Lux, and off in the distance was EXIT. As you drifted, the clouds absorbed you, and you slowly evaporated into nothingness. 

“It’s like she isn’t even there.” Lucifer’s voice was low. You weren’t sure who he was addressing.

“Didn’t he explain it all? That you’re angels? That heaven and hell are real? How could there possibly be more?” You voice was a meek whimper, and wisp of a noise. 

“We didn’t talk about you,” Amenadiel moved to the window. His form was a shadow. Further conformation that he really was the one who got you here.

“Me?”

“Her?”

You looked at Lucifer. Why was he confused? He didn’t have the right. 

Lucifer sat down at the end of the couch, keeping a few feet between you. You didn’t want to look at him. There was a sick tang in your chest, an ache. Like something had been broken inside of you. 

“This is a hard thing to explain, but I’ll try to do the best that I can. Firstly, you aren’t just a person, although Lucy likes to believe so,” Lucifer opened his mouth to interject, but Amenadiel held up a hand. “You’re a mirror image.”

What.

“When Lucifer fell from heaven, he went to hell. There are two things between heaven and hell. There’s Earth, and there’s-“

“Purgatory…” You exhaled. Your stomach hurt.

“Lucifer spent a long time there. A very, very long time. To him it seems like a single moment- it’s a place free of time- which is why he doesn’t remember staying there, only passing through it.”

“How do you know all of this?” Lucifer stood. “Is this a plot? A trick?”

“I’ve known for a long time. What I didn’t know was where she,” he gestured to you, “was located.”

Lucifer tightened his jaw and crossed his arms defensively. Amenadiel continued, “Purgatory was never intended to be a home to anyone or anything. It tears you apart. It’s supposed to be a pit stop, a check point on your way up, or your way down. But Lucifer… You were there for so long,” Amenadiel began to pace. You ran a hand solemnly up and down your arm. It was so cold.

“What happened to you in Purgatory is the reason that she exists in the first place. Whatever soul you had going down got torn into two pieces. It’s part of what made you…” He struggled to find the words. 

“The monster I am.” Lucifer’s mouth hung slightly open. His face looked so soft, so void of the harsh emotion that it usually held. You wanted to do something to change that, and you didn’t know why.

“The two of you are existentially and spiritually bound to one another. You’re like magnets. And if you’re together for too long, well, I’m not sure what’ll happen. But it hasn’t been good so far. The broken window, that poor man…”

“My dreams…” Tears fells from your eyes. 

“Your what?”

“My dreams. They’ve all been about you,” your eyes met Lucifer’s. His face looked so genuine. 

“How flattering…” 

You shook your head, “For that past week, I’ve been having these dreams… I’m running from something, and the ground is so hot. I can hear you. I can hear your voice.” You shake your head. The memories come flooding back to you, as if a light had been switched, a floodgate opened. You clutched your head, a ringing pain shooting through you. You squeezed your eyes shut, writhing in agony, “I’ve seen you.

Lucifer rushed to your side, kneeling beside you. He held your wrists. “If you saw me again, would you know it? Would you know for sure? Please tell me, please, would you know?”

You nodded, head burning. The room was spinning. His touch on your skin felt heavy and electric. 

“Open your eyes.”

You did as he said. 

And everything was real.

Chapter Text

Like any functioning human, you screamed. Not a cute, girly shriek or a shout resembling any sort of medium-level scare. Up through your throat and out of your mouth escaped the most blood curdling scream you could possibly manage. Lucifer gripped your face, then your shoulders, trying desperately to contain you as you flailed your arms about, trying to get away. Amenadiel put a hand over his ear, wincing. You were shaking. You wanted to throw up. You needed to throw up. Or you needed to tear out your organs and die in a bloody mess right there on the couch. That seemed like the only worthy escape.

“Stop! STOP SCREAMING-“ You clawed at his face, wiggling your legs up between the two of you and kicking him as hard as you could. The muscles in your legs burned. He flew backwards, arms outstretched. The wall stopped his horizontal flight. Dust flew around him as the dry wall collapsed, and he slouched to the ground, holding his head. Amenadiel spun to look at you, arms up almost defensively. 

“You could’ve just asked me to back off,” Lucifer groaned through clenched teeth. You were hyperventilating, throat sore, chest heaving. A lightheaded spell swept over you. Blood rushed to your head, and you forced yourself to stand up wearily. The other angel took a step to help you, but you held up a hand and glared at him. Tears of pain were welling up in your eyes. It felt as if there were a blackhole beneath your sternum. 

“Whatever… fucking drugs you have me on, I’m never… forgiving you for it…. Fuck you…. I’ll fucking…. sue you. I’ll take this fucking club… from your grubby fucking satanic hands…. Fuck…. Fucking fuck.” Hot tears poured down your cheeks. You dragged yourself to the bar and found a small trash can under the sink. You vomited, bile burning your mouth. There was definitely blood. You ignored it. “I’m going to fucking call my fucking attorney… I never want to see you-“ you interrupted yourself, further filling the small trashcan- “again.”

Lucifer was standing now, dusting off his arms and knees. “For the record, if you were even partially lucid, I’d have hit back,” he grumbled. Amenadiel was now making his way towards you, slowly. 

“Going to ‘put me out of my misery’? Go ahead.”

He huffed, “Is that really what you want?”

“No,” Lucifer put a hand in front of his brother. “It isn’t.”

“He’s right,” you rested your head on your hands. “You guys have to realize that this is a lot of information.”

There was a moment of silence. None of you knew what to do. You felt gross and sad, the kind of sad that induces chest pain. The kind of sad caused by the complete feeling of being entirely lost. You wanted to call Ren and tell him what was going on, but he was gone. You weren’t sure if he would come back. Who did you have now?

You didn’t have anyone. Because you drove him away. He was there for you through it all. The you you are is only here because of him.You’re such a bitch. You can’t handle this. You don’t deserve this kind of responsibility, jesus you’re so fucking weak. Stupid weak boring bitch, stop crying. Stop crying you fucking bitch. Stop crying. Suck it up and walk it off. Stop fucking crying. 

Your shoulders quivered like reeds in the wind. Tears poured form your eyes, but you hid behind your hands. 

“This is too much.” Stop fucking crying.

Arms wrapped around you, and you let them. You didn’t push Lucifer away this time. You let him surround you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. You didn’t think his brother could hear it. Maybe he didn’t think Lucifer could be so empathetic. “Come on,” he let you go, and gently tugged your hands form your face. You wiped at your cheeks. “We’ll work this out. Everything is going to be fine.”

Nothing is fine.

“Well,” Amenadiel stepped forward, crossing his arms. “I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news-“

“That’s exactly what you mean to be,” Lucifer hissed. You wanted to collapse on the floor. Lucifer reached out, but then pocketed him hands indecisively. 

Amenadiel shifted, “Look, things were fine for a while, when you two didn’t know the other existed. There was a slim chance you could coexist. But the more time you’re together, the greater chance there is that you’ll just…” he clapped his hands together, finding no other way to explain it.

“What does that mean,” you scoffed. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Lucifer smirking.

Oh, I like those odds,” he said, bouncing on his heels.

Amenadiel rolled his eyes, “Imploding. A greater chance of melding back together. All she is,” he pointed to you, “is an escaped brushstroke. A piece of you. That’s why neither of you have ever felt entirely…” He waved his hands around, searching for the right word.

“Entirely whole.” Your shoulders slumped. You were familiar with the feeling. Like something was missing. But you’d always dismissed it because… Well, how stupid was that? Really fucking stupid. Everyone is missing something. What made you so special? Nothing. You wiped your hands on your dress, unsure of where else to put them. “So what now?”

“I’m not sure,” Amenadiel scratched his head. “I’m supposed to separate the two of you by any means possible.”

“You wouldn’t-“ Lucifer was back on the defensive, seeming to read his brother’s mind.

“Well I can’t take her to heaven,” he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Why not?” You crossed your arms. You aren’t good enough.

“Well, there’s the basic reasons. All the sins,” he cleared his throat, “but the main reason is that you’ve been touched by a demon.”

What.” You and Lucifer said simultaneously. There were demons on Earth. Just walking around? And one of them had so much as touched you.

Suddenly, the two of you were speaking at the same time. 

“When did a demon-“

“There’re demons-“

“Where did this-“

“How did they-“

“What kind of-“

“STOP,” Amenadiel looked overwhelmed. When you’d both stopped interrupting each other, he explained, saying one word: 

“Mazikeen.”

 

— — — 

 

Blood rushed to your face. You’d completely forgotten about Mazikeen. You never saw her. You weren’t sure what she was off doing. It hadn’t occurred to you that even the people Lucifer employed weren’t human. Had she touched you?

Memories rushed back to you, of her breaking into your apartment. It seemed so long ago, but you guessed it hadn’t been. Why was time passing so quickly?

You’d zoned out and hadn’t noticed Lucifer glaring at you harshly. His arms were crossed, and his brows were furrowed. He looked entirely accusatory. 

“Anything you’d like to explain to me?” He grit his teeth. Why was he so angry?

“Nothing happened. It’s from when she broke into Exit in search of information about… Me?”

He walked briskly to the elevator, pressing the button. The doors opened, and a part of you wanted to lunge past him and make an escape, but you had a feeling that Amenadiel might stop you that from happening. The doors closed, but you couldn’t see Lucifer’s face. You looked at his brother, who stood arms crossed on the other side of the bar. He cleared his throat, trying to break the silence. You had a lot of questions, but maybe you should wait for Lucifer to return. That didn’t stop your mouth from moving.

“So are we related?”

“What?”

“You and I. If I’m just Lucifer, then…”

He paused, thinking. “I don’t think so. You’re a part of him, but… you’re still-“

The ding of the elevator doors interrupted him, and Lucifer walked back into the room, dragging his bartender with him. She looked extremely uncomfortable, staring at the side of his head, hate in her eyes. Amenadiel clamped his mouth shut, eyes immediately drawn to Mazikeen. She had on leather pants and a low-cut crop top, her neck adorned with a necklace. She was gorgeous. 

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he demanded, voice husky. He sounded out of breath. 

She wriggled from his grasp and rubbed her arm, “We’ve already been over this-“

“You never said you touched her,” he growled, eyes glaring red. You’d seen that before. A quiet gasp escaped you, and Lucifer, glancing to you briefly, straightened and gathered himself.

“Well…” She looked at you, hunger in her eyes. Lucifer clenched his jaw. “I didn’t really mean to. It just happened,” she shrugged. 

“It just…” Lucifer laughed. “I cannot even dignify that with a response.”

Mazikeen met your eyes, smirking. You remembered the way she felt, how soft her skin was, though she’d hardly brushed against you. Lucifer was looking at you. You moved your hand to your lips, staring at the ground. 

You could remember the smell of her lip gloss

In a heart beat, Lucifer was on her, and not in a hot way.

He threw her like a rag doll, and you instinctively put the bar between yourself and them. Amenadiel rolled his eyes. You weren’t sure if he was debating whether or not to step in. 

WHY?!” Lucifer was shouting at her. She stood, wiping blood from her nose. She pulled out a weird looking knife, like a throwing blade, and proceeded to lunge at him. They were screaming over each other, Lucifer about loyalty, Mazikeen about “being a fucking demon” and “only doing her job.”

Lucifer swung at her, but she caught his arm and flipped him over his shoulder. He hit the ground with a bang, and you could hear the air leave his lungs (did he have lungs? You weren’t sure it even mattered. Maybe his insides were molten lava). At this point, you’d had enough, and Amenadiel has sauntered over to the bar and was nonchalantly picking out a cherry flavored vodka. You scoffed. 

“Guys-“ Mazikeen’s blade flew past your head, and you ducked just in time for it to hit the liquor out of Amenadiel’s hands.

“Hey!” He shouted in child-like protest.

“You dare betray me?” Lucifer had lost his jacket, and his shirt was torn. 

“Betray you? What, did you call dibs?”

MAYBE.

“STOP FIGHTING!” You shoved yourself between them, and Mazikeen’s fist nearly collided with your jaw. She lowered her arm. Both of them were breathing heavily, and you had a sneaking suspicious that if you and the other angel weren’t here, there’d be some seriously intense make-up sex. But a part of you hoped not…

“Nothing serious happened,” you explained, putting your hands on Lucifer’s chest to literally hold him back. He was completely infuriated, radiating heat. You looked up at him, and stared at his nose until he finally removed his red eyes from his demon. He let out a sigh, trying to regain some of his composure. 

“We’ve been over this,” Mazikeen spoke up, rubbing a bruise that had begun to form on her arm. “I broke in the scope her out. Maybe I left out the part about making a move on her, but she stopped me,” her eyes wandered to yours. She looked kind of disappointed about that part. “Nothing happened. At least it didn’t get very far.”

Lucifer’s lips parted and his brows relaxed in the way they so often did when he found something surprising. He lifted your hands from his chest, holding them for a moment before releasing them. You missed his touch immediately, simultaneously hating yourself for feeling that way. He won’t ever want you without wanting her, too. You looked at Mazikeen, who had an expression of concern as she watched Lucifer wander away from the two of you, towards the window. He ran a hand through his hair. 

“Maybe we should leave the two of you alone,” Amenadiel spoke suddenly. He was staring at the bartender, who had been avoiding his eyes. 

“Do you mind, Mazikeen?” You felt weird calling her by her name. 

“Just call me Maze,” she mumbled, before sauntering to the elevator. Amenadiel wandered that way two, and the both of them stood uncomfortably until the doors closed. 

It seemed like days had passed, when it’d only been a few hours since you’d woken up. You needed time to think. To try to understand what was happening. You didn’t even know what you were anymore, let alone who you were. The last time you had a young-adult crisis this big was when you started college and did the whole “soul-searching” shtick. It was weird. And you still felt weird. 

“I don’t know what say,” Lucifer mumbled from the window. He had his hands in his pockets.

“Well,” you didn’t want to cross the room yet. You needed space to breath. It was like he sucked the air out of you every time he came close. “Maybe lets start by finding a psychiatrist.”

He chuckled, “I know one.”

“I don’t like change,” you tried to offer a starting point for the discussion you were about to have.

“I don’t like being helpless.” He turned to look at you, but his face was a shadow with the sun behind him. You suddenly felt vulnerable knowing he could see you. 

“You feel helpless?”

“Don’t you?”

You both fell silent. He knew the answer to that more than anyone. 

“I feel like I’m not a person anymore,” your voice cracked. You didn’t know why you were choking up.

“Because you’re a part of me?”

“I’m a sub part of you. I know I’m like, a puzzle piece or whatever, but I don’t feel like that. I feel like you’re complete without me, and I’m never going to be whole because there’s no me without you,” you sounded so cheesy. But it was true. There literally couldn’t be a you without him, but there could be a him without you. He didn’t really need you.

He shook his head, reading your mind, “What would ever make you think I don’t feel exactly the same way.” He had taken a few steps towards you now. You still had a residual fight-or-flight feeling left in your chest, and all you wanted to do was run away.

“Because you’re Lucifer Morningstar-“

“So are you, f/n,” he was trying his best to make you feel better, but that made you angry. Blood rushed to your cheeks, and your ears got hot. 

“No, I’m not.” Your voice was low. “I’m not you. I’m me. I’ve always been me.” He clenched his jaw, but let you continue. Maybe he regretted what he’d said. “I have worked so hard my entire life to make someone of myself. Because growing up, that’s all I was ever taught how to do. If I didn’t, I’d die a failure. I’m not a failure, and I’m not you, I’m someone. I’m me,” your voice was getting caught in your throat, but you powered through it. Lucifer had his hands out of his pockets, and looked as if all he wanted to do was comfort you. But a part of him must have known that that wasn’t what you wanted. You continued, “I wish things weren’t like this. Because now it’s all so complicated. Amenadiel thinks we’re one person, but we aren’t. How could we. Maybe I couldn’t have existed without you, but I do now. For me, I always have. So don’t tell yourself I need you. I don’t.”

His eyes dropped to the floor. “I know you don’t.”

A large part of you was shocked by his answer. He was such an egomaniac.

“What?”

“You’re right. You don’t need me and you never have. But I’m always going to need you, f/n. For eternity,” he picked his head up and looked at you with his brown eyes. He looked like a lost dog, or a child that’d just dropped his ice cream cone. Here he was, exposing himself in the most vulnerable way he could, heart wide open, and you couldn’t help but be amused. You smiled. 

“Why’re you looking at me like that,” he said, “What?”

“I guess I’ll just have to stick around.”

The corners of his lips turned upwards, and for a moment, everything felt like it might not implode. 

Chapter Text

The drive home felt like it only lasted a few minutes. All you could think about was Lucifer, what he’d said, what had happened. What all of it meant for the future. You had no idea what was going to happen, and you were terrified. 

He’d walked you downstairs to your car, laughing as you ripped the giant red bow off the top. Clouds had settled faintly in the sky. You couldn’t tell what time is was, but it was calm and it was beautiful.

“You sure you’re alright to drive? I can have the car delivered,” he’d said, hands in his pockets, rocking uneasily on his heels.

“I’ll be fine. I think a drive will do me good,” you smiled. Before either of you said something stupid of cheesy, you got into the car. The keys were on the dash, and within moments you had the car running. He tapped on the window lightly. You rolled it down, leaning out to meet his eyes.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he said, taking a few steps backward. 

“How could I be?”

You watched him in the rearview mirror as you drove away. His eyes followed your car until he reached into his pocket to answer his phone, turning away from your view. A heavy feeling settled in your chest the moment his back was to you, but by now you were already out of sight.

Now you just felt unsettled, unfinished, like you needed to do something but you didn’t know what. It was about five, and your stomach growled, reminding you that it’d been too long since you’d eaten. Pulling in to EXIT’s back driveway, you began to think about dinner. Which was a terribly normal thing to think about at a time like this. Mind buzzing, you unlocked the back door and wandered down the hallway to the main room, sauntering up the stairs to your penthouse. A sigh escaped you as you unlocked the door. No matter what fantastic thing happened to you, you always felt like your life was destined to be average, that you’d always come home alone late in the afternoon every day. This is how you were going to spend the rest of your life. Being an extra in your own biographical movie.

Maybe you should adopt a cat.

You swung the door open, pushing it closed behind you as you kicked off your shoes and dropped your bag to the ground. All of your clothes had been washed and returned to you, and all you wanted to do was change into a warm pair of pajamas. Your eyes lifted from the floor and landed on the window. To your surprise, it was fixed. 

“I’m getting really tired of people just inviting themselves in,” you mumbled as you approached it. As you got closer, you noticed a small sticky note stuck to the glass.

 

Unlike some people in your life, I’m still determined to fix things.

-Ren

 

You smiled, heart heavy. The guilt had been on your mind for the last 24 hours. It hit you harder now, especially knowing he hadn’t even quit. You needed to call him and apologize. He was the best thing that had ever happened to you, and you were sick with yourself thinking you’d left him that way.

You crossed the living room and dug through the bag of stuff you’d tossed on the floor, grabbing your phone. Of course, it was dead. You groaned, walking into your bedroom to plug it in. You sat on the edge of your bed, slouched and impatient. Your bored gaze wandered until it landed on your closet, which was slightly ajar. You guessed that Amenadiel or Maze had found their way back into your penthouse to finish whatever snooping they felt they needed to complete. Legs working without your mind telling them to, you stepped towards the door, sliding it open. Inside, rows of shoes, dresses, skirts, cardigans. All untouched. The only part that looked out of place was a small cabinet you used for storage. The lock had been broken, tiny metal bits and screws scattered on the floor. Whichever of them (probably Amenadiel guessing by the sloppiness of it) had decided to break in obviously didn’t care about you finding out. You opened the bottom drawer. It creaked. It’d been a while since you’d looked inside.

Stacks of photos, letters that you never sent, unopened birthday cards, dead prom corsages, old apartment keys, and beaten books filled with poems lay in piles inside the drawer. Untouched. Maybe the angel thought it better to leave it alone.

You flipped through the first stack of photos. They were pretty recent, all containing either Ren or your friends from college. Your favorite, nestled at the bottom, was one of you and Ren when you’d just become “business partners,” even though you’d hired him. You were on a boardwalk in Southern California. The trip was for work; the two of you hadn’t decided where you wanted to open a club, or even if you wanted to a open one in the first place. You looked at a dingy old rental space that could’ve been a retail store or a small cafe, deciding to abandon the appointment the moment you got up close. Instead, you spent the rest of your vacation exploring the town and talking about the future of your partnership. The picture, with you holding the camera in a 90s-shitty-selfie style, was taken on Exit Beach. Ren loved the name so much that he made you swear, no matter what the two of you ended up doing, that it’d be called Exit.

He had on a pink floral button up and a white t-shirt. His eyes were on you, but you were looking into the camera, eyes squeezed closed, smiling as hard as you could. You were wearing a pale yellow tank-top, yellow-rimmed sunglasses holding up your hair. Ren had the biggest grin in the world, his arm around your shoulders. You could tell just by looking at his eyes that he was in love with you, even if you’d never be able to measure it. 

You heard your phone buzz in the other room, drawing you out of your nostalgia. You put the pictures back in the drawer, catching a brief glimpse of your father’s face before forcing yourself to step away from the cabinet. You cleared your throat as if you were about to explain that photo to someone. You hoped you wouldn’t ever have to.

The buzzing coming from your room persisted, and you jogged to your bedside table. It was a number you didn’t recognize. With your phone on 5%, you considered ignoring the call, but with the business you were in, you picked up anyway. Barely catching the call, you answered.

“This is f/n l/n, who is this?”

“Miss l/n? This is detective Chloe Decker. We need you to make a statement and I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Your voice caught in your throat. “Questions? What regarding?”

“The shooting at the restaurant, and if you wouldn’t mind, we always need more information about Lucifer.”

“Lucifer?”

“Lucifer Morningstar.”

You were incredibly flustered, tripping on your words (which you never did). “Of course- I’m sorry, I’m still in a bit of shock.”

“Not a problem. Are you available to come down to the station?”

“Give me an hour and I’ll be there.”

“Great, thank you.”

She hung up then, which you thought was cold. Was she a cold person? Your stomach was in knots. You hadn’t been in a police station in over ten years. The last time… 

don’t think about it

You shook your head and walked back to your closet. If you were about to be challenged by some gun-wielding cherry bomb, you were going to look damn good. You slipped on a rose colored pencil skirt, a grey button up, and a pair of black stilettos. Your hands brushed past all of your cardigans and pulled out a black one with grey cuffs. It was heavy but it wasn’t overwhelming. You wanted to look put together, but also like you’d just been shot and were still reeling. Because you’d just been shot and you were still reeling. 

With a gold chain necklace around your neck and a few small rings on your fingers, you grabbed your purse and made for the bathroom. Old makeup off and soft, light makeup on. Teeth brushed. H/c hair pulled up into a wavy curled ponytail. Just a few sprays of perfume ought to mask the “I spent a day in a demon’s clothes” smell. With your confidence on your sleeve and your heart in your closet, you walked to the door of your penthouse and stepped down the stairs. 

The seat of your car was still warm. How long had you been back home? Half an hour? And you were still hungry. You’d have to pick up some coffee on your way. No, that’d just make you jittery.

don’t think about it

Nerves rattled your hands and messed with your head. You drove fast.

 

— — — 

 

The LAPD station was huge. You stood on the upper catwalk, looking down at all the hustle and bustle. It was like a giant, badged and armed beehive. You spotted Detective Decker. She was standing next to a man’s desk. They were talking about something, but you couldn’t really tell what. 

“…I can’t believe she… that… her whole class… Lucifer… blame…” she mouthed. 

Before she caught you staring, you made your way down. A few heads turned to follow you as you approached Decker. She saw you after a moment, smiling. Not a genuine smile, like a “it’s mandatory that I greet you in some way because you’re a victim” kind of smile. 

“Miss l/n, thank you for coming in on such short notice.”

“F/n, please. And it wasn’t a problem at all.”

The man sitting at the desk stood up, his eyes twinkling. He had short brown hair and broad shoulders, a clean white smile. His whole demeanor was that of an officer. 

“Dan Espinoza, pleasure to meet you,” he extended his hand. 

You shook it firmly, “Were you on the scene?”

“I arrived a little after you’d left. We’ve been trying to get a hold of you,” he said as you released his hand. His eyes ran you up and down briefly before he looked at the Detective. “Should we interview her before he gets here?”

If he gets here, yeah,” Chloe waved at you to follow her. She leads you through the maze of desks to a room opposite the entrance of the station. She opened the door for you. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Dan and another man following. You guessed they were the ones who were going to be in the smaller room behind the mirror. Because there was always a smaller room behind the mirror. 

You sat down on the right side of the table. Chloe sat across from you, setting a folder down beside her. 

“Please state your name for the record,” she said. She pulled out a notebook and a pen.

“F/n l/n.”

“You were at the Italian restaurant with someone, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“Do you remember the name of the restaurant?”

“I believe it was Maggiano’s.”

“Had you ever been there before?”

You shook your head. Decker gestured to the mic. “No,” you cleared your throat. “No, I hadn’t been.”

She scribbled something down, “Who took you?”

You hesitated. Your mind was telling you to look at the mirror. He was there. You could feel he was there. “Lucifer Morningstar- I’m sorry, didn’t you ask me these questions after you’d arrived at the scene?”

She nodded, “You’re right. But I need them on tape. May I continue?”

“Yes.”

She was quiet for a moment before she continued, “How long had you been with mister Morningstar before he took you to Maggiano’s?”

“Not very long. Fifteen minutes.”

The detective smiled, “Let me clarify- How long have the two of you been in a relationship.”

The questions caught you off guard. “We aren’t dating. If anything, he’s just a colleague. We’re both in the entertainment business.” Saying that hurt something deep in your chest. You watched as she jotted down another note.

“Why did he take you to Maggiano’s?”

“To apologize.”

“Apologize?” She nodded knowingly, “What for?”

You almost laughed, “He’s Lucifer Morningstar.”

This got a smile from Decker, who glanced at the mirror briefly. “I have some experience with that…” She reached over and opened the folder. She put a few pictures of the body on the table. Your eyes glazed over the second you saw his face up close. It took all your power to keep calm.

“The cause of death is undetermined,” Decker said, her eyes set sternly on you. She was taking in every movement. “How many times did you hear the gun go off?”

You breathed evenly. “I know it went off more than once. One bullet hit me. But in the moment, I can’t be sure.”

She moved an x-ray to the center of the table. “This is his ribcage.”

Your eyes followed her finger. The x-ray showed hundreds, if not thousands of small pieces of bone embedded in his lungs. The other photos were of his body, his skin, bruised and ivory. Your hands trembled beneath the table. There was a sound from behind the mirror, and you fought to turn your head. The detective glanced over, choosing to ignore it. 

“Look, f/n, I know these pictures are difficult to see. But we’re confused. It seems the bullet he fired from his own gun punctured his chest, and that’s what killed him. But that doesn’t explain the shattering you see here.”

“I have no idea how that could’ve happened. Do you know if it was after… impact?”

“We aren’t sure,” she said, leaning forward on her elbows. 

“Is it possible that the shattering happened before? Maybe he was attacked by someone and that’s why he was trying to get my money?” 

She nodded, “That’s possible. But for now, I’m going to need you to remain in town,” she hesitated, looking at the mirror, “I’d advise you to call your lawyer.”

Your heart stopped.

as of now

“As of right now…”

you’re a suspect in this investigation

“…you’re a suspect in our investigation.”

 

Chapter Text

As of now, you’re a suspect in this investigation. Because you’re under 18, we’ll be contacting your family lawyer for you. Sorry, sweetheart, but sometimes the pieces don’t make the picture you expected. You do have a phone call if you want to use it.

The shouts coming from behind the mirror finally got Detective Decker onto her feet. She pushed the chair back as she stood. The scraping sound echoed around the room. You were completely frozen. Like you’d just been struck with something heavy.
“Give me just a second, I have a few more questions,” she motioned for you to stay seated even though you didn’t have the slightest intention of moving. You were afraid that if you stood up, you’d just fall onto the floor in a heap. You watched her as she slid out of the door, shouting as soon as it closed. The mirror rattled. Then, like gust of wind blowing the leaves off of a tree, the door flew open. Lucifer’s eyes met yours, but the moment you began to read what was behind them, another voice drew your attention.
“She has a lawyer! Which she would like to speak to— How dare you vultures, you snakes, sneak up on someone who’s just experienced extreme shock. Not to mention— oh forget it. Let me through. And if you’re not going to charge her, which you won’t, she’s coming back with me. THANK YOU, EXCUSE ME—“
Ren pushed past Lucifer, stopping dead in his tracks the moment he saw you. He sucked in a breath of air, grabbing your arm with his eyes on the floor.
“Come on, we’re leaving.”
“F/n! Wait—“ Lucifer was shouting at you, his fingertips brushing your shoulder.
You turned to look at him, mouthing, later later. Talk later.
His mouth ajar, he stood and watched as Ren dragged you away. Decker approached him, putting a hand on his arm. She stared at you like you were a rubiks cube, or something to be solved. Just as much a mystery to her as Lucifer was.

— — —

The car ride with Ren was dead silent. You wanted so badly to say something to break the ice, but you didn’t know where to start. How did you explain to someone you’d known for years that you were kidnapped by an angel, teleported to Lucifer’s penthouse, and told by his brother who’d travelled from heaven that you were forged in purgatory as a mirror reflection of everything he no longer possessed as an angel— self control, balance, and an enigmatic approach to life. That the reason you always felt like you were missing something was because you literally were. How do you tell someone who’s in love with you that you have an assigned soulmate?
You glanced over at his hands, which were wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. He was a tense driver when he was angry. What was the last thing you said to him?
WHAT, REN?! I JUST WHAT? DON’T FEEL ANYTHING FOR YOU?
You winced. How could you be so cruel?
“You’re seriously not going to say a single fucking thing?” His voice was barely a whisper. He braked as you reached a stop light. Traffic was heavy. It was going to be a long drive.
“I don’t know what to say, or how to start—“
“How about with an apology.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry, Ren. What I said… It was sick, and venomous. You didn’t deserve it, or anything like it. But there’s so much going on…” You trailed off.
“You need to be up front with me right fucking now, because I am so lost, f/n. What the hell is going on?”
You shook your head, laughing lightly. “You’re not going to believe me.”
The road you were on was winding. You realized he was taking the longest route, by the water. He pulled over.
“I’m not going to believe you? No,” he turned to face you, “You tell me everything right now or I’m done.”
“What?” The waved crashed on the rocks outside. You met his eyes. He was fuming.
“You need to tell me what’s going on with you. Everything is fine, and then a dancer breaks her ankle, and then… and then you’re head over heels in love with our toughest competition. You’re stripping in meetings. You’re going out shopping for him. You’re hand delivering jackets, and spending days away, locked up in his club. He shut down Lux for you.”
Your mouth was dry. “He what?”
Ren scoffed, “Don’t tell me you don’t know. I drove up two days ago looking for you, and your car was out front, with a fucking bow on it. And Lux was closed. For,” he held up his hands, acting out exaggerated air-quotes, “Important matters. He lost thousands of dollars. So you’re going to tell me what’s happening, because this is just weird. You go on one date with the guy, and all of a sudden you’re being investigated for murder. Fucking MURDER,” he was shouting and waving his hands. His face had reddened. “I don’t believe in luck or signs from above BUT YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.”
“Ren…” Tears were trailing down your cheeks.
“Please,” he took off his glasses and set them on the dash, holding the bridge of his nose. A long sigh left him. “Please just tell me what’s happening,” he glanced out the window. His eyes were teary and his face was pale. “I can’t do this anymore,” he mumbled, voice cracking on the last syllable.
“You need to promise you’re going to listen. Because this is going to sound insane, and I’m not even sure if I really believe it myself. But Lucifer needs to be there. He’s a really important… piece, in all of this,” you reached out and set a hand on his. He squeezed it, head still in his hand.
“Okay,” he sniffed. “I’m willing to try anything at this point.”
“Thank you, Ren. Let’s head home, okay? Do you want me to drive?”
He nodded. You pulled away and got out of the car. You both circled around, avoiding any kind of contact as the two of you passed one another. The slam of his door startled you. Nerves ran through you like electricity. You started the car and reached for your phone.
My place, you messaged Lucifer. As soon as you can.
With your hands wrapped around the wheel, you shifted into first and pulled onto the highway. It was gorgeous out. The sun was just getting low, and the sky was glowing. It reflected on the water and made the waves look like they were on fire. Your mind wandered, and the first memory that popped into your head was one with your father. Driving on the same road, during the same time of day. There was an old 80s pop song playing numbly on the radio, just loud enough for the synth to get through. He drove in silence, residing in his mind. Your window was down, and you had your arm sticking out. The thought of it made you sad, but you weren’t entirely sure why. It was a good memory, compared to everything else.
You thought about memories like that for the entire drive.

— — —

For the last mile or so, your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. Ren had stared out his window the entire ride, chin resting on his hand, obviously lost in thought. You hated putting him in such a state of direst. In the moment, you could’ve said something better than “I’ll tell you everything but you have to wait.” Your head shook as you scolded yourself. More than anything, you just wanted everything to go back to normal. You wanted everything to go back to normal.
You pulled up to the club. The sun was starting to get low. There was music thrumming inside, the bass rattling the car. You stepped out, watching as Ren got out quickly and walked to the back entrance. You followed him. He headed in, holding the door open for you, just as your phone began to ring. You fished it out of your pocket.
“It’s Lucifer,” you said.
“Of course it is,” Ren mumbled. He let the door go and walked down the hallway.
“Lucifer? Are you on your way?”
“F/n, I’m about to leave. There’s actually something I needed to do first.”
“Oh… Okay,” a part of you was hurt that he didn’t run over before anything else. But he had his own life, his own agenda.
“I’m so sorry. I just… Sort of in the mood to be honest with someone else in my life. Your acceptance has really shed some light on a bit of, uh… Well, I’m just being confusing, aren’t I?”
“Not at all, Lucifer. If you need to… show yourself,” you glanced at Ren, who was watching you cautiously, “to someone else who you’ve been too, I don’t know, nervous to show, then you can do that. We’ll get together after?”
“That sounds good. Maybe we’ll all get together and—“
“Make a deal with the devil?” You laughed to yourself.
“Something like that,” he snickered. “I’ll talk to you soon, alright love?”
You nodded, even though you knew he couldn’t see you. “Okay. Take care of yourself, Lucifer,” For some reason, you had a terrible feeling.
“I always do.”
The line clicked off, and you found your mouth dry and your hands shaky. Something just wasn’t sitting right with you. Ren seemed to sense this, and despite being uncomfortable around you, walked over.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just—“ A bought of dizziness struck you, and you clutched the wall. Ren had his arm around you immediately.
“We need to get you upstairs, can you walk?”
“I think so,” you nodded. Your legs were wobbly, but you managed to get to the edge of the hallway before you fell to your knees.
“Alright, this isn’t working,” Ren said under his breath. He put an arm around your back and under your legs, picking you up bridal-style. You laughed.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s… going on…”
He just grunted as he pushed through the doors and made his way around the crowds of people that had begun to gather. For the most part, no one paid you any attention, but every once in a while someone would whistle. Ren ignored them, pushing past the bouncers at the bottom of your staircase.
“You got your keys?” He huffed.
All you could do was hum in return. He set you down, and you dug through your purse. You felt like you’d just gotten home after a night of partying. “I think I’m just really tired.”
He took your keys from you, unlocked the door, and shuffled you inside. The moment the door closed, and the cool air hit you, you felt better. “I’m alright. Maybe it was just a panic attack or something.”
The words left your mouth, and like your body was trying to spite you, your chest stung you like a brick had just been hurled at your sternum. Your head bounded as you clutched at your chest, eyes squeezed shut in pain. Ren held your shoulders, saying things that you didn’t understand. You could hear your heartbeat in your head.
Detective. Hello, it’s me,
“What is this?” The air around you felt like it was burning your skin as Lucifer’s voice encompassed you.
Um, I just wanted to apologize for being, well, for being so elusive. But I also wanted to say that I’m done hiding. So I’m coming over now to tell you the truth about me.
“Detective Decker? That’s who he was going to talk to?”
“What’re you talking about? F/n, are you okay?” Ren’s voice was distant like you were at the bottom of a pool.
I think it’s about time I finally opened your eyes as to why strange things sometimes happen around me. Why my brother’s so saintly and Maze is so… not. And I’m so, well, magnetic. No… but seriously, I… I want to tell you everything.
No more going backwards.
Ren was shouting for the bouncers, leaving your for a moment to sit on the floor by yourself. You kept listening.
There was a moment of silence, you could hear the sound of footsteps, someone approaching, and then everythi

Chapter Text

You’re standing in a field of daisies. They’ve wilted, a few turning brown or grey. The grassy floor beneath you is warm, and the air surrounding you is dry. Off in the distance, you swear you can hear the faint notes of a grand piano. You furrow your brows at the sound. Small sycamore trees litter the terrain, and behind you lies a forrest. Everything is desolate. Dying, not dead, but not really alive either. It’s strange. 

Your legs begin to move without your mind telling them to. Towards the song. It’s sad, almost melancholy. Beautiful, more so the louder it got. You looked down at your hands as you walked. They were caked with dirt and dust, the white dress you wore in a similar state. You reached up to run fingers through your hair, which was clumped and tangled like the grass below you. Body aching as if you’d run for miles, you walked delicately into the woods. Suddenly, the piano quieted, and the pained notes of a cello rang through the trees. It’s bittersweet tones made your throat hurt in a way you couldn’t explain. You continued towards the sound. 

The further you walked, the darker it got. Clouds of branches formed above you, pine needles drifting down from the tree tops like orange rain. Your mouth was dry. The piano picked up again, and the music intensified. It sounded so familiar, but you weren’t sure why. 

“Hello, sweetheart.”

His voice surrounded you, wrapped you in it’s turmoil. But this time you weren’t afraid. How could you be afraid of something when you knew it so well. 

“…Dad…”

Although the piano and it’s player were out of sight, you saw your father sitting beneath a large oak tree, playing a cello that you hadn’t seen in years. The attic dust still lingered on it’s neck. 

“Sit down, f/n,” he said, his voice low. He was perched on an old wooden stool. You knelt down in front of him, a few feet away. He continued to play, his fingers pressing delicately on the strings, arm expertly guiding the bow. He wore a beige suit, his white shirt cleanly pressed. He looked young, maybe your age, younger than when you’d really known him. But, you figured you never did anyhow.

“What are you doing here?” You asked. Your voice felt small.

“What are any of us doing here?”

“Don’t be so cryptic.” You felt angry, your words soaked in a venom you didn’t know that you’d created.

He just hummed in response.

“Dad… Are you…” 

“Am I real? Of course I am,” he lowered the bow, finally looking at you. Something about his face wasn’t right. “Honey, I’m as real as you, aren’t I?”

“I guess…” You were hesitant to disagree with your father, even now, as you sat in utter doubt. “I don’t understand. Why am I seeing you? I just don’t understand.”

He stood from his stool, resting his cello on the oak behind him. He placed the bow beside it. “I think I’ve been called here. I myself don’t really know why.”

You shook your head, “Called?”

“Maybe awakened is a better word,” he shrugged, taking out a box of cigarettes. He lit one with a lighter he pulled from thin air. The smoke drifted around him rather than dispersing. 

“By who?”

“Something greater than myself.”

You were quiet, unsure of how to continue. None of this made any sense. The piano still played, distantly. It sounded like it moved farther away, if that were even possible. 

“You know I… love you, don’t you?” His mouth twisted as he said it like he’d bitten into a lemon or smelled sour milk.

Your attention wavered as you looked at him. He was surrounded by clouds of smoke, his face getting harder and harder to see. He waved a hand in an attempt to bat it away.

“Of course I do. I love you too…”

“Even though I’m dead?”

You nodded, “I said so at the funeral.”

“I heard,” he laughed quietly, “What a good writer you are. I enjoyed the eulogy.”

“I didn’t really think you were listening.”

“How could I miss it,” he puffed out another mouthful of smoke. The piano got louder. “You really could’ve had a future as a journalist.”

“Dad-“

“Or a musician-“

“Dad, I’m happy with my life. I’m proud of what I’ve done.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, sweetheart. I’m proud, too.” His eyes were locked on something far off in the distance, something that probably wasn’t really there.

You sat in thought, the two of you together, for what felt like a long, long time. The piano engulfed your mind.

“I miss you.”

“Don’t fill silence if it doesn’t-“

“If it doesn’t call for noise, I know, I’m sorry,” you sighed, “But it’s true.”

“I miss you, too.” His voice was cold and empty. He finished off his cigarette, the smoke still clinging to his form. Something about the way he put it out made tears come to your eyes. You stared at your hand, trying to scrape off the dirt that had collected on your skin. 

“I miss you so much,” you choked. 

“Oh, f/n,” he let out a sigh, not moving an inch towards you. He adjusted the sleeve and buttoned his jacket. The piano had drifted steadily closer, and now grew silent.

“I know…”

“Don’t fill silence if it doesn’t call for noise.”

You looked up then, but he’d already gone. 

The only thing he left behind was a cloud of smoke, the remnant of breath, and the stench of a man you weren’t sure ever really loved you.

 

— — — 

 

The sound of an incessant beeping awoke you. Light shined through your curtained windows. Your pillow felt clean and your blankets were like great big clouds, especially since you hadn’t slept in your own bed in too long. You cracked your eyes open and looked around. Ren sat in a chair a few feet from your bed, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. He never got off that thing. You told him too often that it’d melt his eyes one day. At least you used to.

He glanced up, getting down his cup on your nightstand, “Hey, how do you feel?”

Your mouth was dry, and your voice was hoarse, “Like I just had a really, really good night.”

He chuckled, sitting back and waving to someone in the doorway. A shadow entered the room, and for a moment your heart held a glimmer of hope. It wasn’t until he reached the light that that glimmer was extinguished. You looked over to see a man in a white uniform. He had a badge pinned to his breast-pocket that you couldn’t read. 

It was then that you noticed a small, portable heart monitor beside your bed. Your eyes followed a thin tube that lead beneath your comforter. Lifting it, you saw it was hooked up to you. Your stomach churned. Clear liquid flowed through it and into your arm.

“Miss l/n, how’re you doing?” The man pulled out a clipboard. A woman stepped into the room with a glass of water. She wore a similar uniform. You sat up and accepted the glass that she offered, thanking her quietly. Ren tapped away at his phone nonchalantly. 

“I’ve been better.”

“Yes well, we know that much. It seems you were dehydrated and undernourished. Have you been eating?” 

You took a long gulp of your water before answering, “Well, you would figure that if I were undernourished that I wouldn’t be eating.”

He laughed nervously, “What about water consumption? Much of that?”

“Does whiskey count?”

He shook his head, “Unfortunately, it can’t replace water.”

“Couldn’t you have just run tests to figure this out?” Your head was beginning to ache now. 

“It never hurts to ask. Just doing my job, ma’am,” he wrote something down on the clipboard while the woman took your temperature and blood pressure. “Look, life as a businesswoman can be very stressful. Especially in this town. Rumors spread fast, and with what’s been in the papers, I’m surprised you aren’t in a worse condition. I’d advise you to pay closer attention to your food and beverage consumption.”

“Yes, I’ll try harder to do that,” your tone was lax, but only because you wanted to go back to sleep. All this talk of food was making you hungry, too. You couldn’t really remember the last time you had a full meal, let alone three a day. Or even a glass of water, to be honest.

The doctor scribbled something else down, tearing off a piece of paper. “I’m requiring that you see a psychologist. I believe this is stress induced malnutrition, and you should really be talking-“

“I don’t need a shrink. And you aren’t my doctor.”

“Actually, he is,” Ren stated blankly, eyes still glued to his phone. “You don’t really pay much attention to any of the people I hire for things like this, but Doctor Chase here has been a loyal in-house medical adviser for almost a year now. So I suggest you listen to him.” His voice was cold and shallow, and his eyes didn’t meet yours for a moment.

You were rendered speechless, instead taking the paper. You weren’t especially looking forward to therapy. It had been a long time since you’d gone, maybe ten years, more than that probably, and the experience wasn’t one you enjoyed. They always spoke like they knew everything about you, even if you’d barely said a word. Psychoanalysis was all bullshit, anyway. All science has to be based off of something, and what was psychology based off of if no one was really normal.

But considering the events of the past few days, you figured you should just go. How bad could it really be?

“I’ll try it,” you grumbled. The doctor nodded and left the room, the woman following behind him shortly after having you sit up so she could check your pulse and breathing. She also disconnected the heart monitor and removed the tube from your arm, reminding you gleefully to drink water all day. You sighed.

“I really hate doctors, Ren.”

“I know. That’s why I didn’t have you put in a hospital.”

You looked over at him. He’d put down his phone and was back drinking his coffee. He stared through you.

“How many times do I have to say sorry?”

“Enough times that it motivates you to change,” he said, standing. “Do you want breakfast?”

You pushed your comforter off of you, coming to the realization that you were in a set of pajamas. They had moose on them. “Who changed me out of my clothes?”

“The doctors,” he smiled, walking halfway out of your room, “I’m not that perverted.” 

You smiled back at him, shaking your head as you stood. Your legs were aching. “Do I have any messages?”

“Just one from Decker. She called yesterday asking if you were available for an extended interview. She did apologize. A lot.”

“Wait… Yesterday? What do you mean?” You laughed, “How late did she call? Seems a little unprofessional…”

Ren stepped back towards you, an odd look on his face. “F/n, you’ve been out for three days.”

“Out? As in asleep? For three whole days-

He nodded, “No wonder you’re so out of it. The doctors said to expect that.”

You ran your hands through your hair, which was greasy. You cringed at the feeling. “I really need to shower. And then I’m going to talk to Decker.”

Ren shook his head, walking towards your closet, “Not happening. You need a day to relax. I have to go for a meeting, but once I get back, I expect you to still be here.”

“You can’t just lock me up, Ren.”

“Doctors orders,” he said as he opened your closet and walked in. You watched as he grabbed an old t-shirt and a pair of joggers. He picked out a pair of fuzzy socks, too. He shoved them towards you. “You smell awful. Go take a bubble bath.”

You sighed, mumbling a thank you before heading towards the bathroom. Ren left, closing your bedroom door behind you. While you waited for the water to warm, you walked back to your bed and reached for your phone, which was charging on your nightstand. Your eyes glanced at the paper the doctor had wrote on. It sat beckoningly next to your lamp.

“Who’s the poor soul that has to deal with me this time,” you whispered under your breath. Your picked it up, reading the address and phone number. “Doctor Linda Martin,” you took in a breath, “Better prepare yourself,” you walked over to a cork board that hung beside your bed, pulling a pin out of it. 

“Because I doubt you’ve met anyone like me before.” 

 

Chapter Text

The hot water felt incredible on your muscles, which ached despite your lack of movement during the past three days. Hands tracing the foam that floated along the top of the water, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.


Three whole days, you thought to yourself. How could I be out for three whole days.


You’d never been in a coma before. In fact, you’d only passed out a couple times in your life, and it certainly wasn’t at all like this. It usually followed a night of drinking, and you found yourself wishing this situation was anything like the others. Not to mention the freakish dream you had. The same hot-grounded woods as before, the piano, and your father, playing the cello he hadn’t touched for years before his death.


You shook your head, leaning forward to pull the plug out of the drain. You stood to grab a towel, trying not to slip as you made your way out of the tub, legs weak. The air was cold against your bare skin. The reflection that stared back at you as you dressed was one you hardly recognized. Sunken eyes, pale skin, as if someone had sucked all the blood out of you. You were tempted to check your neck for bite marks. Maybe you really did need therapy.


As you reached up to pull your shirt over your head, a searing pain echoed through your upper back. You winced. Pulling your hair over your shoulder, you turned to inspect the area in the mirror. There wasn’t a single sign of any damage. But it felt like someone had tried to rip your shoulder-blades out, or rather, insert something into them. You tried stretching to ease the pain, yet it persisted. Bearing through it, you got the rest of your clothes on and tied up your hair. Maybe you’d just slept wrong. Regardless, you’d have to bring it up to your doctor. He was probably lingering around somewhere. Knowing Ren, he would’ve instructed him to keep close.
Despite Ren’s persistent warning to avoid stress (backed by Dr. Chase), you picked up your phone to call Decker back. She answered after one ring.


“Miss L/n, thank you so much for calling back. I just really wanted to apologize for the behavior that-“


“It’s fine. I understand that the investigation is important to you.”


“That’s still no reason for the actions that our department exhibited. I really am sorry.”


“When do you need me to come in?”


“Whenever is most convenient. The case is progressing slowly, and if you have any more information…” She drifted off, her attention leaving your for a moment. You waited.


“Decker?”


“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m going to need to call you back. I have another case that I’m working on. I’ll let you know if I need you to come in sooner than expected.”


“No problem, thank you.” You hung up with a sigh. Hopefully all of this would just simmer down. The fact that you were the number one suspect in this case really… triggered you, for lack of a better term. If anything, you were the victim. Besides, the Detective was showing obvious bias. Lucifer was there, too. Maybe they’d known each other for a long time and built up some kind of strong mutual trust and deep bond that you’d never understand (although you doubted it was much deeper than what you and Lucifer had, being soulmates and all), but she didn’t seem to bat an eye at anything he did. It almost made you angry. Actually, it did. It made you really, really angry. You could feel the blood rushing to your head, your ears burning. You glanced down at your arms, which were hot and blotchy.


“Holy shit, what…” Examining your skin more thoroughly seemed calm you down, but the redness persisted. It actually felt like you were burning. Your mouth went dry, and your palms began to sweat.
You walked out of your room, holding a hand to your forehead. Dr. Chase was nowhere to be seen. Feet moving for you, you headed towards the door that led out into the club. The floor to ceiling windows that allowed you to watch the activity were darkened. A small switchboard sat on the wall beside your door, and you hastily entered the code that cleared the windows. You immediately spotted Chase, slamming your hands on the glass repeatedly before taking an uneasy seat on the floor. Footsteps echoed up the stairs, and before you knew it, he was standing above you.


“What is it? Miss l/n? What are you feeling?” He stretched out your arms and examined the redness, brows furrowing.


“I feel like I’m… I’m in the middle of a desert, as strange as that sounds.”


He stared at you for a moment, perplexed, before jogging into your room. He returned swiftly with a washcloth, which he held to your forehead and cheeks.


“I need you to lie down, I think you’re suffering from heatstroke.”


“Heatstroke? I’m… inside.”


“I don’t know, this is incredibly odd. Just lie down and hold this to your head. Where’s your thermostat?”


“Ren will kill you.”


“Miss l/n, excuse me, but I quite frankly do not care.”


You chuckled, which was dizzying. “It’s on the wall inside my room, by the door. And just call me f/n.”


He nodded, smiling nervously. You watched him walk out of your peripheral. The cool washcloth felt great, but not as great as the frigid air that soon filled your penthouse. You groaned in relief.
Without you noticing, the Doctor had returned to you and was lifting you up off the floor and moving you to the couch.
“Do you have any history of this?”


“Nope. Up until a few weeks ago, my health was pretty impeccable, actually.”


He shook his head, “I want to run some tests, but first I’m going to throw an idea out. You’re not going to like it.” He sat in a chair across from you, arms hugging himself. The temperature was dropping rapidly, and you assumed he was freezing already.


“Go on…”


“It’s entirely possible- well- many victims of trauma experience mental breakdowns- episodes, which can sometimes result in physical ailment. Now, this- this seems to be extreme- not that I won’t run some-“


“Shut up.”


“I’m sorry?”


“Look, I’ll make an appointment with the shrink you suggested, I’ll do whatever you want, you can take whatever samples you need. Full consent,” you turned to look at him, “I just want to know what’s wrong with me.”


He opened his mouth, shutting it a few moments later. He nodded solemnly, standing. “I’m going to head back downstairs if that’s alright. I assume you’d like some time alone.”


“Thanks,” you mumbled, holding your arm over your eyes. Your whole “episode” had completely sapped all of your energy. You heard the quiet footsteps of a pensive man, followed by the opening and closing of your front door. As soon as you knew you were alone, a sob escaped your mouth.


“Why me?” You cried, quite pitifully. This whole ordeal was really beginning to get to you. You missed Ren, you missed being able to talk to him about everything. And you didn’t know what’d happened to Lucifer, where he was, who he was with. If your constant concern for him was even a choice that you had, or if your lingering conscience was just a result of your… condition. That’s what you’d decided to call it now. You removed your arm from your eyes, body cooled back to normal. Goosebumps now covered your skin. The ceiling was all the relief you found.


“Why did you choose me,” you found yourself saying, to no one in particular. “Out of all the people on this planet, with terrible lives, with amazing lives, people with purpose, people with cause, why me? What did I do to deserve this? Am I being punished? Have I died and gone to hell?”


From your right, you heard a soft scoff. You whipped your head to the side, sitting up abruptly. This caused a near-blinding pain to shoot through you. You yelped.


“I can certainly assure you that this isn’t hell, but forget that, are you alright?” Lucifer’s concerned voice wasn’t as reassuring as you imagined it would be.


“I’m fine,” you waved a hand, huffing.


“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” he kneeled in front of you, placing a hand on either shoulder. “What happened?”


“I don’t even know. I just blacked out,” you lifted your head, meeting his eyes, “Days ago.” Deja vu swept over you as you remembered his eyes and his face. The real ones.


His brows knit together in confusion, and he pulled back slightly. “You blacked out?”


“Did I stutter.”


He chuckled, holding up his hands, “No need to be defensive, I ask because I’ve found myself in quite a pickle. And being that we’re connected, I’m somehow… unsurprised.” He tilted his head to the side in thought.


“Unsurprised? Lucifer, I’m in the most pain I’ve ever been in. My whole body aches, I just suffered from what seems to be a mentally-induced-heatstroke, it feels like someone sawed out my shoulder blades, and on top of that, every second I close my eyes, I see my dead father and I hear… you, on a phone call, with someone who is not me,” tears began to sting your eyes, “Lucifer, I’m so scared. I’m terrified. I feel like I’m losing my mind. And that’s really the only thing I have anymore. Who am I if I’m not… me…”


Lucifer was looking at you with what could only be described as incredible concern, like you were a dying bird or a moderately large tsunami. He lifted his hands and set them on yours, refusing to meet your gaze.


“Please say something,” you mumbled, the silence making it harder to stifle your sniffling.


He shook his head lightly, scolding himself as he stared off to his right. He whispered something under his breath before speaking, “This is all my fault.”


“What do you mean?”


He finally looked up at you, regret in his eyes. “I did this to you.” Quickly, he removed himself from you, stepping away. You just stared at him.


“Lucifer-“


He adjusted his sleeves and straightened his jacket, “No, I need to get away from you. I’m only going to cause you more harm-“


“Whatever you’re talking about, I think it’s a little too late for that.”


He just looked at you, longingly, before turning and dashing out of the room, pushing past Ren on his way out. You heard shouting following his footsteps. Tears fell down your cheeks, your eyes lingering on your hands.


“What was he doing here? Are you okay?” Ren walked towards you cautiously.


“I don’t know,” you shook your head quickly, clenching your fists, “I don’t know anything anymore.”

Chapter Text

Your hands were shaking. Actually, your whole body was shaking. You were a record breaking earthquake stuck in the body of a person who was not prepared to handle it.

“Look at me.” Ren sounded far away. His soft voice bounced around your skull for longer than you were comfortable with. Sobs choked you, stealing what little oxygen you had. What little control you had over your own body. “F/n, look at me. Please…”

You met his eyes. They were wide and filled with worry, and he stared as if that look could heal you. 

“I’m drowning,” you whispered. He was knelt down before you, his chin almost resting on your knees. Ren took your hands in his and squeezed. His cologne wafted up to your nose, and for the first time in an hour, you breathed deeply.

“Good thing I’ve got some lifeguard training,” he chuckled, offering you half a smile. 

You smiled back. The pain in your body was subsiding as you calmed down. 

“I know you don’t know what you’re going to do,” he said, “but I’m here for you. I’m always going to be here for you. I’m sorry I got so caught up in how I felt. You deserve the world. I’m just an oyster.”

“What you are is a dork,” you mumbled. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

He clutched onto your hands a little tighter, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he grinned to himself. You wanted to offer him more that reassurances, more than promises, but you knew it would have to wait.

You inhaled deeply, pulling your hands away from Ren’s. You looked him in the eyes as you scooted his glasses up to their place at the top of his nose. As you stared, you noticed all the freckles he had littered across his cheeks. 

“I’m tired of feeling like a prisoner in my own life,” you stated promptly. “So here’s the plan.”

Ren brushed the wrinkles out of his shirt and adjusted his watch, standing straighter than he had before. “At your service.”

“I want you to call the insurance place and get us a better deal. I also want you to pitch them our venue for their launch party. Tell them the place they’ve got won’t hold the amount of people coming in.”

“Right on it,” he pulled out his phone and started typing, following you as you made your way to the bedroom.

“I also want you to let our investor’s know I’m ill, but recovering quickly. It’ll be enough to prompt them to up their investments out of pity without worrying whether or not they should pull out. And Ren,” you walked into your closet and picked out a casual a-line periwinkle dress with pearl along the collar. You wanted to look good when you went to battle.

“Please send a bouquet of flowers to Mr. Morningstar.”

“Any particular kind?” He looked up from his phone to watch you while you laid out your clothing.

You thought for a moment. “Send him red roses.”

“A little romantic, don’t you think.”

“I know,” you said through a smile, “Gotta get him right where it hurts.”

Ren chuckled, but you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. “Want me to attach a note?”

“Yes, write ‘thorns included.’”

“I’ll get right on that,” he started to walk towards the door before he stopped and spun around. “And f/n?”

“Yeah?” 

“I missed you,” he smirked, winking, before leaving your room and heading for the front door. You listened to it open and close before reaching for your phone. You’d have to tell your new therapist about how easy it was for you and Ren to bury your feelings and burdens in order to continue with work.

Without wasting any time, you put on some light makeup and perfume, brushed your teeth, and dressed. You walked to the cork board by your bed and looked at the number the doctor had written down. You typed it into your phone and waited patiently while it wrung.

“This is Dr. Linda Martin, how can I help you?” She sounded chipper.

“Hello, my name is f/n l/n. I was wondering if I would be able to schedule an appointment? Dr. Alan Chase recommended you.”

“I haven’t talked to Alan in months! He’s such a wonderful doctor- I’d be happy to meet with you. My schedule is looking a little full at the moment, let me see when I can get you in. What was your name?”

“F/n l/n…” You found your foot tapping.

“I actually have an evening slot today if that’s alright. Then we can discuss how regularly you’d like to come in, unless you want to wait to meet me before you make any commitments.”

“I would, actually. What time?”

“Does 5:30 work? How far away are you?”

“Not too far at all, I’ll be able to make it.”

“Great! I’ll see you then. Thank you for calling.”

You sighed as you set down your phone. Already you were feeling less confident. Something about her bothered you. Maybe it was the fact that there really was no reason for you to dislike her. All you could think about was all the bad experiences you’d had with psychiatrists before, always projecting and shoving their own ideas into your identity. You walked out feeling like you had more problems than you started with.

With heavy feet, you made your way down to the car. How long had it been since you’d driven? Things felt simultaneously like they were moving quickly and slowly. It felt as if a year had passed, but it’d only been a few days.

The sun warmed your skin as you stepped outside. While you may have found that to be a discomfort only moments ago, you now enjoyed it. Something about it was very soothing.

You found yourself more alert as you made your way to the car. Your eyes darted around, every noise made your heart skip. It was this paranoia that drew attention to a car parked half a block down, in direct view of your penthouse windows. You could barely make out the figure of someone sitting in the drivers seat, hands on the steering wheel. With shaky hands, you opened your car door and got in.

All of this is really getting to my head…

You started the car and made your way down the block before turning onto the main road. You tried to let the beauty of the setting sun distract from the sinking feeling growing evermore present in the pit of your stomach.

 

— — — 

 

You arrived at Dr. Martin’s office a few minutes early, just enough time to find parking and make your way in. The sun was almost behind the horizon now, and it cast vivid orange light on the surrounding area. The smell of salt and oranges made its way through the air, accompanied by the smell of trash on a hot summer day.

The air was thick as you walked to the front doors. You entered, the air conditioned entry space a chilling reminder that you were really going through with this. Everything about the room made you think you were seeing a shrink. It was like they all had the same interior designer, or they shared a Pinterest account.

Before you had any more time to critique the space and find reasons to leave, a peppy looking blonde woman with glasses popped her head out of a room on the right side of the hall.

“Miss f/n?”

“That would be me,” you said, forcing a smile. Which made you self-conscious, because of course she could tell it was fake.

“It’s great to meet you! Please, come in,” she waved you through. Her office smelled like vanilla and hand sanitizer. The walls behind her desk were lined with books, her desk itself was cluttered with papers and trinkets. Small indoor plants decorated the space, as well as various pens, sticky notes, and other small office supplies. But the couch and coffee table in front of it were impeccably clean, and you weren’t sure if it was because she was trying to create a valuable space for clients or she worked with an OCD patient.

“I like your office,” you said flatly.

“Thank you. I try to have a space that’s objective. No personal items, I find that clients prefer a space that feels like they’re getting therapy and not staying at a bachelor pad,” she smiled.

“I do like that, yeah,” you brushed down your dress and sat down on the couch. You took in a deep breath. For a moment, and maybe from where you were sitting, you smelled something familiar. You tried not to look like you were figuring out a puzzle as she sat down across from you.

“Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water?”

“I’m alright, thank you.”

“Well, let’s get started then,” she folded her hands in her lap. “I called Dr. Chase and spoke with him about your condition since you mentioned he was working on you. Doctor-patient confidentiality still stands, of course, so this was a professional call.”

You nodded.

“I wanted to talk a little bit about what’s going on with you physically before we dive in, if that’s alright.”

“Of course.”

“What seems to be the biggest issue?”

“Well, it all started with, um,” you paused. You weren’t sure how much you wanted to tell her. Especially about the breaking glass and Lucifer involvement, being a derived part of what little soul he had before he made his way down to Hell. You’d just have to start small. “Headaches, and hot flashes. Random flurries of anger. These strange dreams. It got a lot worse when I barely escaped getting shot. I watched someone die right before my eyes. Then it all just,” you waved your hands around.

“Imploded?”

You nodded. “Now I’m blacking out, I’m losing time, I’m getting these weird heatstroke-like symptoms. I’m just hoping I’m not becoming Norman Bates…” You laughed to yourself.

Dr. Martin smiled. “It sounds to me like you’ve got some PTSD, maybe an anxiety disorder before that.” She leaned forward, forcing you to focus. “You know, when things like this show up, it often means we’re rejecting a part of ourselves. Much like the way your body might reject a new organ, your mind is in denial about something. Whether that be this death that you saw, the loss of someone close to you, or even a change in environment. I want to help you figure out what it is that caused this to happen, and we’re going to work through it. You’re going to get through it.”

As much as you wanted to hate this woman for her profession, you couldn’t. Because she was right. You were in denial. You needed to stop waiting for opportunities to burst in. You needed to-

“Linda, I really need to talk to you about…”

Lucifer stopped mid-sentence as soon as he saw you. His hand hadn’t even left the door handle.

“…this girl.”

Chapter Text

Your heart stopped. In a single moment, all of the feelings you’d started to bury erupted from behind your sternum, flooding you with anxiety. 

“Lucifer! You can’t just burst in here, I do have other clients, you know,” Dr. Martin stood abruptly. She took a step towards Lucifer before she caught on to the very obvious tension in the room. The two of you hadn’t looked away from one another.

“Do you know him?” She asked you, pointing an accusatory finger in Lucifer’s direction.

All you could do was nod. It was enough to break you out of your trance, and suddenly you found your hands to be of extreme optical interest.

“I’m sorry— what exactly am I missing here?”

Lucifer hesitated, trying to find his words. “Miss l/n is a competitor of mine. She owns a club on the other side of town. Merely a business interaction, I fear she may just be embarrassed that—“

“Stop with the lies,” you said, your voice forcing its way out of your throat. “Lucifer and I have an incredibly complex relationship, stemming from the fact that we do business in the same place. That’s true. But I find myself struggling to speak in this moment because this ‘man’ is the most upsetting, manipulative, self-absorbed, thoughtless individual I’ve ever met in my whole career— no, my whole life, and my father was a cellist!” You were shouting, your chest heaving. Dr. Martin and Lucifer both had their wide eyes on you. Lucifer’s jaw was clenched. But he couldn’t deny what you were saying, and you knew that’s why he kept silent as you ranted.

“I have spent weeks trying to understand myself, to unravel the mess that is my existential understanding, and all he’s done is throw each of my conclusions into a blender together. And it’s not like I can actually talk to anyone about the things he’s revealed to me because, apparently, MY LIFE IS A PURPOSELESS TEENAGE FICTION where NOTHING WORKS OUT. No one will ever understand. I thought this whole therapy thing, doing it again, would help. Clearly, I was wrong, and the universe, or should I say ‘Dad,’” you pointed at the ceiling, “Is against me.” You violently grabbed your purse from the couch and started towards the door, ready to shove Lucifer out of the way. 

Dr. Linda caught your arm, “You know?”

Your feet stopped dead in their tracks. Lucifer’s eyes were set on the ground, although his glances towards you were frequent enough to show some kind of concern.

“What?” Your voice was weak from the yelling.

She looked nervously at Lucifer, seeking some kind of confirmation. He nodded towards her. You mind was swirling with questions. Did she know about him, too? Was she talking about something else? You really were losing it.

“You know that Lucifer is… Lucifer.”

You laughed dryly, “Are you referring to his abhorrent alcoholism and promiscuous sexual activities, or his horns, demonic tactics, and daddy issues?”

“You—“ he started. Linda held up a hand to silence him.

You shot him a glare. As much anger as you felt, you also wanted to be close to him. You wanted him to hold you, to say things only you could hear. You could smell his cologne, feel the fabric of his shirt, the soft texture of his hair. You were kicking yourself subconsciously. 

“Maybe the two of you should sit down…” Linda gestured towards the couch. Both Lucifer and you let out a scoff.

“I’m not about to—“

“If you think—“

Sit,” Linda repeated. You walked hesitantly back to the couch, sitting on the far left side. Lucifer sat on the opposite end of the couch, clearly uncomfortable. 

“First of all, I can tell there’s a lot to unpack,” Linda began as she closed her door. “I’m not sure why the two of you can’t stand one another, but being that there aren’t many people who know about Lucifer, I think I’m in a special position to help you.”

“How convenient,” you mumbled. Was your whole life scripted?

“Let’s get started. Fill me in on the basics, and we’ll work from there.”

 

You spent the next two hours explaining you situation to Dr. Martin. How the two of you had met briefly, how things had spiraled, the shooting and mysterious circumstances surrounding the case, the strange occurrences regarding your physical and mental abilities, the developing psychic connection you and Lucifer shared. She sat patiently, nodding and interjecting occasionally to ask clarifying questions. You were honestly shocked at how well she was taking all the information. You guessed she’d known Lucifer for a while now, considering that she knew about him. You wondered who else knew…

“So the solutions Amenadiel offered were…?”

“He could kill me, he could send me to hell, he could entrap me forever…” You shrugged, “You know, your typical capital punishments.”

She chuckled lightly, “Well it can’t be that simple, can it? These things always seem to have loopholes.”

“They are designed that way,” Lucifer grumbled. “Other than my overachieving, determined brother, the only issue that arises is managing to keep our distance.”

“I didn’t think we needed to until he up and abandoned me. I’m still new to all of this— It’s not like I can seek advice from anyone…”

“I didn’t abandon you. You only suffer when I’m around!”

“I only suffer, when you suffer,” you said, finally turning to face him.

“I’m always suffering.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Ooookay,” Lisa held up her hands, “Let’s slow down a little bit. So when he’s in pain, you feel that pain?”

“Yes,” you wrapped your arms around yourself, remembering the burning sensations you’d felt before.

“And when he’s emotionally overwhelmed, you feel that, too?”

“I think so. I was walking to my office the other night, I could hear his voice inside my head. I think he was trying to tell someone about being the actual devil,” you kept your eyes down. “I heard him leave that person a voice message. And then…” You shivered.

“That was the night I got my wings back,” Lucifer’s voice was low. “Then I woke up in a desert.”

“And I started to get heat stroke—“

“—because her body is still mortal. Anything I could normally survive could kill her.”

You breathed out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Even though the confirmations you were receiving were terrifying to hear, it made you feel calm to know that Lucifer was aware of these things. That maybe he wasn’t out to get you.

“What happens if the two of you continue to co-exist?”

Neither of you spoke, which said enough.

Linda nodded, “I think it might be beneficial to schedule some couple’s therapy.”

You immediately objected, but she interrupted you before you could make an argument, “If you’re going to tell me that you aren’t a couple, I hate to break it to you, but you are. You are literally connected by other planes of existence.” She laughed lightly.

You shook your head, “You don’t understand. I have no say in this, I—“ the words fell into place as you spoke, putting your thoughts in a line that finally made sense, “I miss him all the time. I look at other people and I only see him. I hate when we aren’t together, I hate knowing he’s free when I feel like I’m shackled. It’s like I’m under some sort of trance, and I have no way of knowing if these feelings that I have are mine or his or something else. I don’t get a choice, I don’t get to end things, I don’t get to decide one day that I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” tears were brimming in your eyes, “I have no control. I’m just a witness to my own emotions.”

There was a long stretch of silence. You wiped the tears that were trailing down your cheeks, becoming aware that you were hunched in a defensive ball, trying to take up as little space as possible. But for once, your mind was quiet.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” Lucifer’s voice was soft. You looked in his direction. He was in a similar position as you were.

“I think I need some air…” You whispered.

Linda spoke up, “It’s clear the two of you… have a lot to talk about. I think, before we resume this kind of discussion, you need to talk… alone,” she sighed, “I want to see you both in here again in a couple days.” She stood, “Please, go for a walk, a drive.”

You nodded, picking up your purse and heading quickly for the door. You could hear Lucifer walking behind you as you exited the building, not realizing until you got outside how stifled you felt in that room. You gulped in air like you’d been underwater.

“F/n,” Lucifer approached you with caution.

“How could you think I was okay?” You were choking on your own words. You felt weak.

“I didn’t, I just thought you’d be better off without me around. It’s stressful feeling like I’m always going to cause you more pain.”

“What like— You’re worried?”

“Yes! Yes, f/n, I’m worried. I’m worried all the time about whether or not I’m okay, because if I’m not, then you aren’t. I can’t get hurt, I can’t get upset. I have to be completely stable all the time!" He waved his hands around as he spoke, his voice getting louder, "And if you were to get attacked, or if you were in another dangerous situation, another shooting, what am I supposed to do? I can’t take the bullet, I can’t fight off the perpetrator. I can’t help you without hurting you.”

“Yes you can! Just be there,” you were fully crying now, tears streaming down your face, “I just need you to be there, Lucifer. Please.” Sobs shook your frame, and it wasn’t long until you felt arms around you. You buried your face in his shoulder and wrapped your arms around him, immediately comforted by the feeling of his chest, the smell of his clothes. 

“Am I upset now because you are, or because I am? I can’t tell if the feelings I have, the pain I experience, if my own. Everything’s an illusion. I’m going insane.”

“You aren’t going insane,” he pulled back slightly so he could look into your eyes. “Everything you feel is yours. You can tell when it isn’t, can’t you?”

You nodded. He brushed a thumb across your cheek, wiping at the tearing that had stained them.

“What am I without you?” His face was inches from yours, his eyes warm and brown. A chill rain delicately down your spine. It felt so natural to be this close to him…

“You’re you.”

Maybe the air was too warm. Maybe the sun was too low. Maybe you were caught up in the moment. Maybe your eyes were puffy from crying. Maybe your heart was beating too fast. Maybe the timing wasn’t perfect. 

But you kissed him anyway. You closed your eyes as he leaned down to meet your lips, your arms wrapping instinctively around his neck as he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. It was like it was choreographed, like you’d done this a million times. 

Like it was supposed to be this way. 

 

Chapter Text

Lucifer’s shoulders ached as his eyes adjusted to the light in the room. His curtains shifted slightly as a breeze blew through, chilling his skin. He rose slowly, invisible weights tied to his chest, his mind aflame. 

“Something bad is going to happen today…” He mumbled under his breath as he rose up from his bed. It was still early in the morning, the sun barely showing through a shield of grey clouds. 

Hands holding his pounding head, Lucifer made his way into the bathroom, showering briskly. The steam helped with the migraine, but didn’t do much to improve the aches that echoed throughout his muscles. He ran his hands up and down his face. His eyes were still barely open.

He looked like exhaustion.

The mirror in the bathroom fogged up, the tile becoming slick as the minutes ticked on. Birds could be heard chirping outside. The city was waking up. Sunlight hit Lux, the tinted windows set on fire with the afternoon sun. Lucifer stayed in the shower until nearly eleven.

After several hours, he stepped out, still feeling like he’d been paved over. The water had gone cold a while ago, his skin pricked with goosebumps, the mirror clear of fog. The reflection he saw didn’t look like someone he knew. He reached out his arm sarcastically, as if to shake the hand of the man in the mirror.

His mouth opened as if he were about to make a joke to himself, but it closed just as fast. He didn’t really have anything to say.

With heavy feet, he dressed. His usual white button up and back slacks. A blazer with satin lining on the inside. He put on a watch he would never look at, and combed balm through his hair to keep it in place. A spray of cologne, a drop of moisturizer. Nothing could get rid of the unruly bags beneath his eyes.

“What’s the point of silk sheets if I don’t sleep to begin with…”

He walked out of his room, into the elevator, and out the front door, his face neutral. He was bored.

Women stared as he walked along the sidewalk, not really sure where he was going. He needed a drink, but didn’t want it. He looked for a fight, but couldn’t find one. He felt miserable. 

He routinely made his way back to Lux and got into his car. In search of something to do, he headed towards the police station. There was nothing on the radio, so he drove with his windows down, listening to the sound of wind and car horns. People were so impatient.

The late afternoon sky has just as dull as the one of early morning, being that the sky had been fluctuating from clear to cloudy. It was still grey, and a fog had begun to drift in from the coast. A chill sat in the air.

The police station was nearly empty, officers finishing their paperwork for the day, drinking their last sips of stale coffee. People mulled about with files, and no one paid any attention as Lucifer made his was to Decker’s desk. She wasn’t there.

“What’re you doing here? Did Chloe call you in?”

Lucifer turned to see Officer Espinoza leaning back in his chair, and air of curiosity about him. As he saw Lucifer’s face, he stood.

“Just thought I’d drop by. Crime never sleeps, after all.”

“Neither do you, apparently. You look terrible.”

Lucifer smiled cynically, “I do try…”

Espinoza shook his head, “Sorry. I just mean, you look like you haven’t slept in days—“

“Lucifer?” Decker’s voice rang out across the room. She was carrying a stack of papers. Lucifer pocketed his hands and stepped away from her desk, allowing her to set them down.

“What’s all that for?”

“Drug bust. But it’s just a lot of paperwork,” she paused and examined his face. “Are you… okay?”

“I think I just need a chat.”

“Is Linda out?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, “right, sorry, forgot we’re work-friends, not friend-friends.”

“That’s not true,” Chloe sighed and gave a look to Dan. He held up his hands and walked back towards his desk. “What is it?”

“I think I’m depressed.”

Chloe crossed her arms. “Depressed?”

“I haven’t been sleeping. I feel like I’m tied down…” He looked at his feet, “I have the strangest sense that something bad is going to happen.”

“Like a gut-feeling?”

“Precisely.”

Chloe turned and leaned against her desk, eyebrows raised as she waited for Lucifer to continue.

“I can’t explain it beyond that. But I just know that something isn’t right.”

He glanced up at Decker, who was chewing the inside of her cheek. She thought for a while before saying anything. 

“I think you just need a change of environment.”

“How do you mean…”

She gestured towards the station, “Look at this place! You’re here nearly every day. Nothing has been happening. I think you’re just falling into a rut, a routine that you aren’t used to,” she shrugged, “Go out, find a club that isn’t yours, and talk to Lisa. I’m not a therapist.”

“You’re probably right,” he looked around meekly, “All this police work is rather monotonous. I can’t even remember the last time I brought a hooker home.”

“See that’s… the... spirit,” Chloe sighed, “Go. There’s nothing here for you to do and I don’t want to watch you mope around for the next three hours.”

So he left. He scrolled through his phone as he walked to his car. Completely distracted by the news, he started his car without noticing the large man in the passenger seat.

“Depressed?”

Lucifer jolted upright, eyes wide. Amenadiel sat nonchalantly, eyes directed towards the street. Cars zipped by. The sun was setting.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking in. You know I can sense when something is changing.”

Lucifer nodded, “You feel it, too.”

“I disagree with Decker. This isn’t just you. This is something big.”

Lucifer clenched his jaw, running a hand through his hair. His eyes closed for a moment. It felt good.

“Whatever it is, it’ll blow over. I’ve made it this far,” Lucifer offered a chuckle, but his brother didn’t return it.

Amenadiel shook his head. “Not this time. Just be careful.”

“I’m not a child—“

“Just... be careful.”

Then he was gone. Lucifer huffed out a breath, driving off faster than he should’ve. He was tired of life being so dull. He followed the sound of pounding club music. He was going to drink until he was unfazed.

A line had begun to form outside a colorful building. He pulled his car up to the curb and stepped out. Bouncers waved people in, while others stumbled out. It wasn’t even midnight and people were already wasted. 

Beautiful women in tiny dresses lined themselves up outside the doors. Smoke wafted out of the entrance, and the smell of sweet booze began to lift Lucifer’s spirits. He made his way towards the front of the line, sneaking in ahead of the fifty or so people that were there already. Apparently the wait was long.

He’d never really been to this part of the city before. He wasn’t far from home, and could probably see Lux from where he was, although not from the street. The clouds had finally cleared. If he could get up to the penthouse, he might have a shot.

“Hey there,” a woman’s voice came from behind him. “You here all alone?”

A blonde woman in a tight green dress raked her nails down his arm. She was obviously already very drunk.

He humored her, “I am. Are you?”

She shook her head. “I got threefriends inside alreeeeady. I bet they would love to meet you.” 

He chuckled, placing a hand on her shoulder. He was incredibly tempted. 

“Can I ask your name?”

“Veronicaaa,” she giggled. He makeup was smeared, her hair was curled haphazardly. Her dress squeezed her figure and left little to the imagination.

“You are a persistent one, aren’t you. Let me ask,” he bent down slightly so he was eye to eye with her. She bit at him in an attempt to be seductive, laughing all the while. “Miss Veronica, what’s your deepest desire?”

Her eyes glazed over and her movements stopped, “I want to forget who I am and start over again,” she spoke quietly.

“Is that right? I can help you with that,” he moved on her then, slipping a hand around her waist. She looked up at him, still in a trance, her eyes empty. Her breathing had deepened. He didn’t care that they were surrounded by people, that they were out on a street, as he kissed along the side of her neck. She groaned into his ear.

Before he could ask her to go somewhere else, there was a blood-curdling scream that made its way over the sound of the music. A few people in the crowd looked concerned, but didn’t pay too much mind. Mumbles of questions began to fill the silence.

Just then, a bouncer made his way through the groups of people, a dancer in his arms. She was sobbing loudly, clutching her ankle.

Oh God, it’s broken! It’s broken! Oh God, oh fuck!” She shouted as the bouncer set her down on the sidewalk. He was trying desperately to calm her down, but she continued to yell. Her breathing was hard and fast. Sirens sounded in the distance.

“That’s not good for business…”

Lucifer let go of Veronica, who forgot about him immediately as she latched on to another man. The dancer had quieted down, but she still choked out the occasional sob. 

Then he saw her. A woman in leather pants and a light pink blouse made her way outside, followed by a body guard. Whistled chirped behind her, but she ignored them and made her way to the edge of the sidewalk where the dancer was. Lucifer couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying, but she spoke to the bouncer harshly, scolding him for bringing the dancer out front.

The ambulance parked across the street, and paramedics made their way over. Lucifer watched the situation unfold. Assuming it was taken care of, he fiddled with his sleeve and redirected his attention elsewhere. His chest tightened suddenly, and a feeling of anxiety washed over him. Then, a feeling of absolute calm.

He felt a tap on his shoulder.

An electric shock flew through his body. He felt like he’d just re-experienced every drug he’d ever taken. He had one single thought before she spoke.

This is it.

“You look like a proper gentleman,” she smiled up at him then, their eyes meeting. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her voice was like silk, she smelled like peonies. He needed to know her. “Mind if I borrow your jacket?”

Maybe he already did.