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Lucifer Morningstar swanned back into everyone's lives as though he'd never been gone. He thought it best that way. No tearful reunions, no one to poke at his wounds before they healed, and no one—absolutely no one—to ask him how he felt. Just as he wanted it.
The fact that he had wanted to see Chloe, had parked by her house for hours but hadn't been able to drum up the courage to knock, had hovered his thumb over the call button countless times over the weekend but hadn't been able to bring himself to call, well. That was how he wanted it too. It was. He didn't- Well. It had been quite some time and he shouldn't just... barge into her life like that.
Personal growth.
There were quite a few people he didn't recognize in the precinct, but enough who still recognized him that he could go directly to Chloe's desk. She was doing paperwork, not paying attention to her surroundings. The words he wanted to say—I love you, I missed you, please love me—all got caught in his throat and jumbled together, stopping his tongue.
Instead, he cleared his throat and said, "Still in need of a partner, Detective?"
She whipped her head up and there was shock and delight in her eyes for the barest of seconds before her expression shuttered.
"How-" she swallowed and her voice came out stronger when she continued. "How long have you been back?"
"Not long," he said, feeling uncomfortably wrong-footed. "I... got back, as you say, Friday."
"Ah," she said, and nothing more.
Either he had missed something—what a joke, he had missed everything—or she had moved on and didn't know how to tell him so. That was- It was- His heart felt like it was constricting in his chest and he had to control his breathing before it got out of hand. He could deal with it, were it the case. That was all. He would deal with it.
Still, she didn't look particularly pleased to see him, and he found himself shuffling his feet and wanting to look away. He couldn't though. She was radiant, glowing like his favorite of stars, Her hair was pulled back but he wanted to loose it from its tie and run his fingers through her soft waves. His hands itched to reach out and touch, but that- She clearly didn't want that anymore. If she did she would look... more happy about his return.
And he realized, with a sickening feeling of dread, that the glow he saw around her was the same sort of glow one saw around women with child. He-
"Are you pregnant?" he blurted then wanted to smack himself about the head. Were it the old days, she probably would have done it for him. But things were different now, and she-
"Gee, thanks," she said dryly, not sounding thankful at all. "No, I'm not pregnant, Lucifer. But you're the same as ever I see."
The remark had a biting tone to it, one he couldn't understand. It was an honest mistake and when she stood up, she was as slim as ever around the waistline, but it wasn't like he could have told that while she was sitting behind her desk.
Then she herded him out of the precinct like an errant child, told him that she didn't need his help, her current partner was fine, and she'd text him later. Each sentence sounded more like a lie than the one before. He was left gaping on the sidewalk, speechless, as she went back inside. Then he turned, tail between his legs, and left.
The next day, he tried to respect her wishes and stay away. He really did. But he just- He had come back from Hell! For her! Didn't she care? All evidence pointed to no, and it felt like a barb in his heart every time he thought about it.
He couldn't stop thinking about it.
If thinking about it was like probing an open wound, going back to the station was like shoving a finger deep inside. When he got there, someone he didn't recognize was at Chloe's desk. Their heads were bent together, inspecting something, and then she laughed. It was a bright, happy sound. He had missed it so dearly while he was gone but hearing it now just sent a spike of pain through him.
So he turned around and left, ignoring the confused looks shot his way as he did. Okay, so she had moved on. He could deal with that. He could. He just... needed some time. To think about things. Maybe he needed to talk to Linda.
He called her from the car. When it went to voicemail, he hung up and tried again. Then hung up and tried again.
On his fourth try, she answered with a curt, "We're not buying anything."
"Wait, Doctor Linda!" he said quickly and paused, not knowing how to continue. There was a crying child in the background and he suddenly felt like he was intruding on something. It wasn't a good feeling and he didn't like it.
"Lucifer?" Her voice was tremulous as she said, "Oh my God is that you?"
"No need to bring my father into things," he said weakly, a feeling of relief rushing through him and fading just as quickly as it came.
The feeling of intrusion only grew worse as the crying child grew louder, until it sounded like he was on the phone with it and not Linda. He realized that if it was this late into the morning on a weekday and she was with Charlie that she wasn't working. He had thought- But no, this wasn't-
"I should go," he said, slumping in his seat. "I didn't mean-"
"No, no, no," Linda said quickly. "Why don't you come over. We've missed you."
Right, because Amenadiel, the lucky sod, got everything he ever wanted and Lucifer was left with nothing. He had spent such an incredibly long time in Hell and no one had come to visit him. Not a single one of his siblings. No one had brought him news of what was happening on Earth. Especially not Amenadiel, the one he thought might—just maybe—care a little.
"I have important matters to attend to at Lux," he said, not lying—there was a lot that had been let slide in his absence—but not quite telling the whole truth.
"Lucifer-"
He cut off whatever she was going to say with a curt goodbye and hung up. When the phone rang mere seconds later, he turned it off. When he finally put his car in gear and started to drive away, he caught sight of Chloe leaving with her new—although he supposed the man wasn't exactly new anymore—partner. Their eyes met, briefly, but he quickly looked away and gunned it out into the street.
When he reached Lux, he quickly made for the penthouse. He could... He could relax for a few hours. He poured himself a healthy glass of whiskey and meandered over to his piano. It was like he'd never left. And wasn't that just the truth. Would Chloe have ever felt the need to tell him she loved him if he hadn't been leaving? Did she do it because she knew she was never going to see him again? Was never going to have to make good on the promise inherent in those words?
The elevator slid open and he said, without turning around, "Really not in the mood right now, so I would suggest turning right around and leaving."
"No." And when he whirled around, Linda was there, carrying a sleeping toddler.
She laughed at what must have been a truly horrified face. His flat was no place for a child Beatrice's age, never mind one as small and breakable as that.
"Don't worry," she said. "He's out like a light and isn't going to be waking up any time soon."
She had a bag in hand and carried to the nearest couch, laying the boy down and rummaging through it until she came up with a small blanket. Before straightening, she caressed a soft hand over Charlie's hair. And then she turned to Lucifer. She came straight to him and pulled him into a tight hug.
"Did you just get here? Have you seen Chloe yet?" He must have tensed at that, because she paused and said, "Ah."
He meant to make a joke, or turn her attention away, or something that wasn't pathetic, but instead when she let him go the words, "I don't know what to do," came out.
"Lucifer..." She guided him to sit on the other end of the couch from Charlie then pulled a chair over so she could sit in front of him. "What do you want to do?"
He could feel his chest tightening and heat prickling at his eyes. This wasn't how he imagined coming back. And oh, he had spent years down there coming up with plausible and not-so-plausible scenarios of what would happen if it was ever safe for him to come back. None of them felt like this.
"I don't- I want things to be the same," he blurted. "I want her to still love me. To not have been lying when she said it. I-"
He cut off the flow of words, snapping his mouth shut, and took a deep breath through his nose.
"She wasn't lying," Linda said firmly. "Listen to me, Lucifer. It wrecked her when you left. She was miserable for so long and I- We all were so worried about her. As your therapist, I should be telling you to go after what will make you happy. As her friend, I can't do that unless you're sure you're going to be staying."
"I-" A plan was slowly forming in his brain. "I'm not going back while she's still alive." Linda made a face that he couldn't interpret. "I can't. I can't stay away. I've sealed the gates so nothing can get in or out and I'm the only one who can unseal them. A tricky bit of work that was."
Linda made another face at that, this one more surprised. "What's going to happen to the souls who should go there?"
He shrugged. "Everyone's going to Heaven now I suppose. At least until-"
He broke off when a sob threatened to spill from him and bit his lip to keep it at bay.
"You can do that?" she asked, leaning forward. "Why haven't you done it before?"
"It took a bit of time to figure out and I don't know if Dad will stand for it. But he can sod off. I'm not going back yet and I'm not unsealing the gates until I do."
"He's God, can't he unseal them himself?"
He smiled at that, something sick and hard in it that matched the feeling roiling through his stomach. "He can try, but he gave me complete dominion over Hell. I'm done playing the good Devil. If he wants me back, he'll have to make me himself. And that's not going to be happening."
She nodded, but still looked unsure. He didn't know how to reassure her, so he moved on to the more pressing issue. "What do I do?"
"I can't tell you that," she said, infuriating as always.
That was okay though, because he thought he knew. "I need to win her back." He ignored Linda's sigh. "I need to remind her of how good we were together. Thank you, Doctor."
She was watching him with sadness in her eyes, and he had the feeling he'd missed something, something important. He also had the feeling that she wasn't going to tell him even if he asked, so he let it go. He had plans to make, things that needed to be done. Things that didn't include a therapy session. But it was his flat and not her office, so he couldn't just walk out.
Besides, she was still friends with Chloe. Maybe he could get information out of her. So he leaned forward, smiling his cockiest smile, and said, "So tell me what I've missed."
When Linda finally left, it was only because Charlie was waking up and Lucifer kept casting nervous glances in his direction. He didn't want a human that small running around his flat and getting its dirty fingers on everything. He had missed... a lot. More than he thought could happen in two years.
When he asked, near the end, if Chloe was seeing anyone, she just smiled at him and turned the topic away. He was going to take that as a no, which was going to make finding out if she still (ever) loved him much easier. He was back at his piano—playing something soft and slow and sad, something that fit his mood—when the hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention and the elevator door slid open.
He didn't say anything, or even turn around. He'd know that feeling in the air, those footsteps, anywhere. And, sure enough, soon Chloe was slipping onto the piano bench beside him, an un-navigable ocean of space between them, as he played.
"I don't know how to do this anymore," she said quietly as the motion of his fingers came to an end and the last note trailed away. "I can't- You left me."
"I know," he said. "I wouldn't be able to stand it if someone happened to you or- or any of- anyone because of me."
"We were supposed to be a team," she said, and a tear fell from her bowed head to splash on a key.
"I couldn't-" he started, desperately wanting to reach out to her, to pull her into his arms and let her take whatever comfort she desired.
"No," she said sharply, making his words stall in his throat. "You didn't want to."
That was so far from the truth that he could only sit there, gaping quite unattractively at her. The only thing he had wanted was to stay with her. She had said she loved him and, in that moment, he had believed her. It was like tearing himself in two to leave when she was crying and pleading with him not to. If it hadn't been a threat to her life, he didn't know if he would have been able to.
When he didn't respond, she sighed and stood. "I don't know why I'm here. I'm just gonna..."
Before he could even think to reach for her, she was at the elevator. "I can assure you," he said desperately, standing but not moving toward her. "If there had been any other way-"
She stopped, but didn't turn to face him. "That's the problem, Lucifer. There was. We could have dealt with it together. But you- You and your martyr complex- You took away any choice I had in the matter and just left me there."
"Oh," he said quietly, his voice smaller than he would've liked. He had done the one thing he abhorred above all else. And to Chloe no less.
Her shoulder slumped, suddenly, but she still didn't turn around. "Everyone leaves," the "me" went unsaid. "If I can't trust you not to do that then I can't do this."
Panic started to claw at his throat at her words. How was he supposed to prove he wasn't going to leave again? How did one prove a negative? "Chloe, please," he said, not too proud for begging. "I'm not going to leave again. I-"
She just shook her head, and then she was the one to leave. She stepped into the elevator and, when she turned to press the button, he saw that she was crying. It wasn't the first time he'd made her cry, but by all that he cared for, he vowed it was going to be the last. He wasn't going to leave again, and that was a fact. He just needed to find out how to prove it. Then they could be partners again and everything would go back to normal.
Except with more sex. Definitely more sex.
"Detective!" he said the next morning, standing in her kitchen and chopping fruit. "Good morning. I trust you slept well?"
He turned to see her fully dressed and staring at him like she wasn't sure if she wanted to kiss him or kill him. He really hoped it was the former.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice strangled. Ah, the latter it was, then.
"Making breakfast," he said, feigning innocence. She didn't seem to buy it which was unfortunate, because his innocent face was a work of art.
"Why are you making breakfast?" She didn't come closer, and she looked tense, and he frowned.
"Because- So you have something to eat other than vending machine sandwiches. I made you a lunch, too." He plated the crepes and fruit, then turned back to her, smiling, expecting that she would be giving him that soft smile she did sometimes when he had done something particularly clever.
Instead, she was frowning, and his face fell. "Lucifer, you can't just break into my house."
"I-" he said, a little taken aback. He thought they were past that. He thought-
"You need to leave," she said, finally stepping forward. "I can't- You need to leave."
"But I-" he started, grasping for something, anything that would make her change her mind. His heart was in his stomach, an uncomfortably heavy feeling. This wasn't what he pictured coming back to Earth to be like. This wasn't what he wanted.
"It's too early for this," she said over him. "Please leave."
"At least let me do the dishes," he said, pleaded. "It's not fair to leave them for you when I'm the one who made a mess."
"And then you'll leave?" she asked, sighing. Still, she took the plate he handed her.
"If that's what you desire," he said softly. He wanted her to tell him that it wasn't, that she wanted him to stay, that she still loved him.
Instead, she said, firmly, "It is."
"Oh," he said and turned to wash the pan he had used.
Chloe was silent as she ate, and he didn't know how to fill the silence anymore. When he finished, after making sure to thoroughly clean everything and working perhaps slower than he had to, he wanted to linger. Wanted to ask her about the urchin, wanted to talk to her. Instead, she raised her eyebrows pointedly and he said goodbye and left.
That was- He felt shaky and raw as he drove away. When he was back at Lux, back safely ensconced in the penthouse, he called Linda. He needed advice, and while she didn't always give the best advice, she usually helped him figure out what to do.
"Lucifer?" she asked, sounding groggy when she answered the phone.
He could hear Amenadiel in the background, asking who it was and then being surprised that it was, well, him. Lucifer realized he was grinding his teeth and forced his jaw to relax. He had hoped to put off letting his brother know he was back for... quite some time. Now he would have to deal with-
"Are you alright?" Linda asked, jarring him out of his thoughts.
He opened his mouth to tell her of course he was alright, why would he not be, and stopped. "No," he finally said, his voice breaking embarrassingly. "I don't think I am."
"Where are you?" she sounded more awake now, and maybe a bit worried.
"At Lux," he said, then added, just in case, "There's no need for worry."
"Okay," she said, and he was slightly offended that she didn't sound like she believed him. "Why don't I come over. Amenadiel can stay with Charlie."
"There's really no need for-" he started, but she'd already hung up.
He went and poured himself a generous glass of whiskey. Maybe he could get a nice buzz going before she arrived. He was well on the way there when the elevator doors slid open and she stepped out. She looked a little frazzled, but he didn't comment on it.
"Would you like a drink?" he offered, lifting his own glass in explanation.
"Yes," she said and added, firmly and almost to herself, "Yes I would."
So he filled his glass again and poured her a more reasonable amount of wine before sitting. She sipped her drink and sighed, leaning back in the chair she had sat in and pulling her feet up. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Linda sipping her drink and his dangling from his fingers, almost forgotten as he tried to piece together what he wanted to say.
"She said she loved me," he finally said, his voice small. "Before I left, she said..."
He drifted off, closing his eyes. It was a memory he had clung to in Hell. When he didn't think he could make it another day, he would lock himself away and pull it forward in his memory like a treasured photograph, focusing on it until it was worn and soft at the edges. She loved him, and the thought warmed him on nights when he felt so alone he may as well be traveling through space and lighting the stars again. Only there was no joy accompanying it, no feeling of pride and completeness. Just an empty hole where his heart used to be.
Linda was silent for too long, and when he opened his eyes, she was watching him with an inscrutable look on her face. "People's feelings can change over time-" she started.
He flinched. He knew that; he did. But his feelings had stayed strong over the decades, and it had only been two years for Chloe. It was a long time for a human but surely...
"-and it's up to Chloe to decide if she still feels the same."
He shook his head a little, trying to deny the words that came out of his mouth next. "She said she can't trust me anymore." He took a shaky breath. "What does that mean? I've never lied to her. I've-"
"You left," Linda said simply and without judgment. "That hurt her and... And Chloe's been left a lot in her life."
"That's what she said," he said quietly. "But I had to. I don't understand why she can't see that. I don't understand why she doesn't-" he broke off, choking on his words and gasping.
"I'm going to break the cardinal rule of therapy here," Linda said after a long moment of silence while he tried to get his breathing under control. "You don't need to remind her of how good you were together. She still remembers that. If you're serious about staying, you need to tell her that."
"I don't know how to convince her," he said. His eyes were prickling again and he looked up to the ceiling, blinking.
"That I can't tell you," she said, sipping more at her glass of wine.
"Well then what bloody good are you?" he asked, frustrated and wanting her to feel the same.
"It's not my job to give you all the answers. It's my job to help you find them yourself," she said calmly. "I can only lead you where you're willing to go."
He snorted at that. It sounded like utter and complete bollocks. He wasn't a horse being led to water; he was a Devil that wanted to get his detective back. So he sipped his drink sullenly and scowled at the floor.
"Lucifer," Linda said and waited until he looked up before continuing. "You know Chloe. How would she want you to be there for her?"
"Well I can hardly protect her if she insists on staying with an inferior partner." He didn't know where she was trying to lead him. If he knew, he would have done it already, no need for help.
"Does Chloe need your protection?" she asked, refusing to give him a clue as to where she was going with this.
"Yes!" he said, thinking of bullets and axes and knives and what would have happened had he not been there to take the blows for her.
He swallowed, hard. He couldn't protect her anymore. It wasn't enough to lurk on the edges and hope he got between her and danger in time to prevent her from being harmed. And he didn't know anything about this partner of hers, beyond that he made her laugh.
His throat was tight when he said, "But it doesn't matter, does it, if she doesn't want me to work with her anymore."
Linda made an encouraging noise.
"So I have to... show her that- that she can't drive me away?'
Linda sighed again, which was really quite rude. If she was going to sit there and drink his wine, the least she could do was tell him what he needed to do.
In any case, it didn't matter. He could show Chloe he wasn't going anywhere. He could be there for her and keep her safe and- And maybe then she would love him again.
Lucifer leaned against Chloe's car the next morning, packed lunch on the bonnet next to him. She didn't want him in her house, and that was okay. That was fine. He didn't care. At all. And it was good to respect her wishes, even when those wishes didn't make much sense to him.
She stopped short on seeing him, before walking slowly up to her car.
"Lucifer," she started, "I told you-"
"Yes, yes, I remember," he said, keeping the bitterness out of his voice. Instead of asking her why, he grabbed up the lunch and handed it to her. "I made you a sandwich."
She narrowed her eyes at him, but took it and peered inside, as though checking for danger. It was just a sandwich and a napkin with a little doodle on it, but she didn't look any less suspicious when she met his gaze again. He tried not to fidget under her searching gaze.
Finally, she said, "Thanks. I need to get to work now and you can't-"
"Yes, of course," he said, hiding the way his chest felt tight at that. "I'll just let you be on your way then."
He lifted his hand to have as she pulled onto the road, but she didn't look back. At least she had taken the sandwich.
The next morning, he waited for her again, still staying out of her house even though he could've whipped up a quick breakfast that would've been much better than whatever she was making. The smell of burnt toast drifted from somewhere, and he really hoped it wasn't from her kitchen window.
When she came out of the house, looking harried and rushed, he held back all the words that wanted to pour out of him—a feat of strength that he felt someone should appreciate—and just handed her the packed lunch and wished her a good day. She thanked him absently and left, not mentioning the devil doodle he had made on the napkin the day before. As she drove away, he lifted his hand in a wave, but she didn't seem to see him.
That was alright, that was okay, he just needed to take in a deep breath and he would be fine.
He thought maybe he caught a small smile when he handed over the sandwich the next day, and it might have been his imagination, but her thanks seemed softer. And he was pretty sure he caught her eye as he waved when she drove past him.
The next morning, she paused briefly before taking the sack from him. For a moment he thought she was going to say something, anything, about the doodles he'd been leaving, but instead she said, "You need to stop doing this."
He blinked at that, taken aback. She had let him almost all week without protest; what had changed? He hadn't even put anything racy on any of the napkins. "Whatever for?"
"Trixie's going to be here again. Dan's week is over. I don't want her... getting her hopes up."
"What?" he said, completely lost. It hurt, that she hadn't told the urchin he was back, more than he would have expected. His chest felt tight again, and he didn't like it.
"I don't want her thinking you're going to be sticking around," she said, refusing to look at him.
"But- But I am," he said, scrambling to find something that would convince her he wasn't going to leave again. "That's- You were right. I shouldn't've left in the first place. I'm not- I won't leave again. I promise."
"Don't lie to me," she hissed and he reeled back as though struck.
It certainly felt like she had hit him with something, perhaps stabbing him in the heart. But that had almost happened once and it certainly hadn't felt anything like this. One hand unconsciously came up to press against his chest, over his heart, but when he realized what he was doing he forced himself to drop it. Chloe's eyes were bright with what he thought might be tears, and her mouth was a firm line.
"I'm not lying," he said carefully, the flare of hurt nowhere near subsiding. "I would never lie to you."
"Then don't make promises you aren't going to keep, whatever," she said, turning away.
He reached out and grabbed her shoulder, but she shrugged him off and whirled back around. Tears were rolling down her face and he wanted so very badly to wipe them away.
"I'm not-" he started, but she interrupted him.
"I can't do this right now."
"Then when can you?" he asked, frustration bleeding through. "What can I do to prove myself to you?"
She just shook her head and got into the car, not taking the sandwich this time. As she pulled out, it rolled off the bonnet and fell into the street, another car running over it before he could save it. Somehow, it felt like the car had run over his heart, not a bloody sandwich that apparently didn't mean anything.
He left and sped through the streets back to Lux, reveling in both the wind in his hair and the knowledge that Chloe wouldn't like that he was speeding. But she wasn't around to tell him that and it felt more like he was going through the motions, too hollowed out inside to enjoy it.
When he was safely back in the penthouse, he poured himself a generous glass of whiskey and sat down at his piano. Perhaps playing would make him feel better.
It did not.
Lucifer judged that that night would be urchin-free—showing up when the urchin was there seemed just a tad too... manipulative—so he was waiting on the steps when Chloe came home.
"No," she said as soon as she got out of the car, slamming the door shut with enough force to make him wince. Her car wasn't anything special, but it still didn't deserve to be treated like that.
"Detective-" he started only to be cut off.
"I said no." She brushed past him to unlock her door.
"Detective!" he said, but instead of stopping, instead of listening, she closed the door in his face, not quite slamming it as hard as she had slammed his car door.
He stared at the door, considering his options while his heart pounded in his ears and his breath started catching on every inhale. His eyes felt watery and he blinked hard to clear his vision. She- He just-
He turned, dizzily, and sat on the front step, heedless of the damage it was going to do to his trousers. Did she truly not love him anymore? Was that- Had he- She was the brightest thing in his long, long life, and he had- He had lost her through his own actions. He looked up to the few stars he could see beyond LA's lights and they shimmered through the tears in his eyes.
He didn't know how long it had been, but the moon was high in the sky when he heard a sigh behind him. He had missed the door opening, so lost in his thoughts and self-loathing, but when he turned, Chloe was standing in the light, arms crossed over her chest, hair down and looking so beautiful he had to look away.
"You may as well come in," she said and turned, leaving the door open behind her.
He trailed after her, heart in his stomach, and pulled the door shut behind him. Then he just stood there, barely inside the entryway, unsure what to do. Why he was there since she was so intent on not wanting him anymore. His eyes were watering again.
He had wanted and he had lost and Tennyson had no idea what he was talking about. He should have known. He should have stayed in Hell where he belonged and now he was standing in Chloe's house like he deserved to be there.
"I shouldn't..." he started and drifted off, not wanting to leave, but not wanting to stay for her to reject him once again either.
She snorted as she went into the kitchen and pulled two glasses down from one cabinet and a bottle of something from another. "Leaving again?" she asked, her voice caustic, and he could reply with nothing but the truth.
"Not unless you tell me to."
She paused at that, and he felt himself starting to silently beg her not to do that. He would listen this time, if she did. He would. He would respect what she wanted and stay away no matter how much it killed him to do so. Maybe he would go back to Hell. It wasn't like staying on Earth and known she hated him would be any better.
When she came back, she was carrying two glasses and one of his better bottles of whiskey. That explained the empty spots at the bar in his flat. She plunked them down and sat on the sofa. He couldn't make himself move, couldn't make himself go to her. Couldn't throw himself on the fire of her anger.
"Well?" she finally said, her voice full of crossness and something that sounded so much like hurt he wanted to squirm under her gaze. "You sat outside for four hours and now, what, you want to leave because I let you inside?"
"No," he said, his voice rough, but the rest of what he was going to say got stopped up in his throat and he had to clear it.
She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You can't have it both ways. Either come in or leave. Don't just hover in the door like you-" there was a hitch in her voice and she paused before continuing with "-like you don't want to be here."
"Nothing could be further from the truth," he said, going cautiously to sit on the other end of the sofa.
She made a noncommittal noise and poured a generous amount of whiskey into one glass. She handed it to him, and he tried not to shiver when their fingers brushed. He had missed her touch so much that now it felt like a brand across his skin.
After pouring herself a finger, she threw it back with a mild grimace, then poured herself another. He wanted to reach out and tell her that this wasn't whiskey for doing shots, that if she wanted to why not come back to Lux where he had plenty of better options. But, for the first time in their partnership, he felt that it wouldn't be welcome and cared.
"Why did you let me in?" he finally said when the silence became too much for him to bear.
She shrugged a little, taking a slower sip this time and then rolling the glass between her palms, staring into it like it might hold the secrets of the universe.
It didn't, and he would tell her them all if only she'd ask.
"I didn't want the neighbors talking," she finally said, making his heart sink in his chest.
"Oh," he said numbly, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. "Alright."
She sighed and inspected the liquid in her glass some more before saying, "I shouldn't give you another chance. You've used up second chances and then some." He flinched at that, heart sinking further until he felt it in his toes. "I don't- I don't think I could survive you leaving again, and I don't know how to trust you to stay when every time I think-" She shook her head a little, huffing out a bitter laugh then falling silent.
"I'm not leaving again," he said, all too aware of how weak that sounded.
She was right; he had left her time and again, and there were years in Hell where all he could do was sit there and sink into his regrets. He had wasted so much time. And maybe he should be grateful that he'd had her love to sustain him through Hell and leave it at that, but he couldn't. He couldn't. He missed her. He'd thought coming back would be enough but now that seemed so foolish. How could he expect her to take him back when all he did was hurt her?
"You were right. I never should have left in the first place. I-" He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry. There are... so many things I have come to regret and most of them involve you."
She flinched at that, opening her mouth to say something, but he hurried on.
"Every time I left when I should have stayed, every time I didn't-" he stumbled over the words, feeling raw and exposed as he said them "-didn't tell you I loved you, didn't realize I loved you, I-" He had to stop to take a deep breath to try to clear the tightness in his chest, his lungs. "I was supposed to be your partner, I know. And I- I wasn't a good one."
"Lucifer," she said, sighing like she wanted to interrupt him further, so he rushed on trying to get all the words out.
"You should have been able to rely on me, but I- I kept abandoning you. And I-" He realized he was curling in on himself and forcibly straightened his back until he was sitting upright, rigid and unmoving. "I know what that feels like and I kept doing it because I-" He shook his head a little, looking down at his hands, and tried to stop wringing them in his lap.
"Because I thought I was keeping you safe. From me." He finally, finally looked over to her through watery eyes, forcing the next words out. "I understand if I've hurt you too much and you can't forgive me. I don't deserve your forgiveness. I just wanted you to know that I will never stop loving you."
He waited. It felt like an interminable amount of time, but he waited silently for her verdict. He would allow- no, he wanted her to be his judge, jury, and executioner. Get it over with in one fell swoop.
"Sometimes," she finally said, her words slow and her eyes welling with tears, "love isn't enough."
He gasped, a pain unlike anything he'd ever known tearing through him. His Fall had hurt less. It stole his breath away and, as much as he didn't want to, he could feel tears sliding down his cheeks.
"I understand," he said, his voice choked and breaking in the middle of the short sentence. He needed to-
Chloe grabbed his arm as he got up, making him overbalance and fall back onto the sofa. He had never taken her for a sadist, but if this was the punishment she wanted to dole out—to make him listen to her tell him she didn't love him, perhaps had never loved him—then he would sit through it. He would do his best to make it easy for her and then when she let him go he would-
"I'm not done," she said, and he could see she was crying too. Stabbed through the heart as he was, he still felt the need to comfort her, to stop her tears and make her smile again. He just didn't know how.
"Loving someone, being in love and in a relationship, means working things out instead of cutting and running. It means facing problems together." She took a shaky breath. "It means being there for each other. And I don't- I don't know if I can trust you to do that."
She bit her lip, looking down. He was trembling slightly with the effort to hold in the sobs that wanted to escape. He hadn't known it would hurt this much. He hadn't known caring for someone could hurt like being impaled on a stake while burning for a thousand years in a fiery pit. He felt paralyzed with it, unable to think or move or do anything but sit there with the pain and try not to fall apart.
He was poison to everyone he cared about, but especially to her.
Then her hands were on his face and he was reeling back from the touch. "Please, don't," he begged.
Please don't make this harder.
Please don't be gentle when he deserved nothing of the sort.
Please don't make him hope.
He couldn't meet her eyes, looking over her shoulder at the wall and flinching when she touched his cheek again, trying not to lean into the soft touch of her fingers as she wiped at his tears. He couldn't bring himself to push her away again, telling himself that soaking up the attention now so it would last him just a little bit longer was a better thing to do.
"Lucifer, look at me," she said and his eyes were drawn inexorably to meet hers. There was a light in them he hadn't seen in a long time, a glowing softness through her own tears that made the pain in his heart and the feeling of crushing hopelessness abate just the tiniest bit.
"I shouldn't give you another chance," she said, making him inhale sharply. "But-" she took a breath and he held his "-but I'm going to. One last chance, do you understand?"
It took him a moment to realize she was waiting for a response, but when he did he nodded eagerly. He would fuck it up again; he knew he would. But a reprieve before the ax fell was worth more than all the stars in the sky.
"I know we're going to fight sometimes, but you need to promise me that you're not going to leave again, no matter what."
"As long as you want me by your side I will be," he promised, his voice wavering.
He finally, finally reached across the distance between them—a yawning chasm to him though it could only have been a few centimeters by then—to touch her cheek, using his thumb to swipe at the tears. When she leaned in, pressing her lips to his, they were salty but so, so sweet.
His hand sought out hers almost without his conscious thought. When she laced her fingers through his, her grip was tight like she thought he would fly away if she didn't keep him grounded. He appreciated it. His heart was hammering in his chest hard enough that he was certain it would be visible if only he looked down, and the pain had lessened so quickly he was feeling lightheaded.
It wasn't gone—he had caused too much hurt for that, abandoned her too many times for it to go away—but the sharp feeling had dulled to an ache and it felt like he could breathe again.
Her free hand slid into his hair, gripping the strands tight even though the kiss stayed soft and gentle. Chaste even as he worshiped her with all the skill at his disposal. His own hand didn't stray from her cheek where she was leaning slightly into his touch. He didn't think he'd ever grow accustomed to that, to her wanting his touch. Wanting him to be tender with her.
"Are you sure?" she asked against his lips before drawing away only far enough to drop a kiss, butterfly soft, to his cheek, his forehead.
"I promise," he said after a moment, finally sitting back but not letting go of her hand.
Her smile was like the sunrise.
The End