Lucifer snuggled closer to Chloe, burying his head in her hair, closing his eyes. Chloe turned her head to face him, a smile on her lips.

"I'd never have guessed that the devil is a cuddler", she teased, giving him a soft kiss. Lucifer hummed, deepening the kiss. Chloe turned her body around completely, drawing her arms around him.

She pulled her head back a little, moving it down to rest it in the crook of his neck. Lucifer started drawing his hand through her hair, and Chloe sighed quietly.

Lucifer slowly dropped his chin until his head was resting atop of hers, embracing her more tightly. He felt calm, rested, at peace. For the first time in millennia, he felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

They remained like this, neither of them feeling like moving. After a while, Lucifer heard Chloe's breathing become more even, her arms loosening their tight grip around him. She was asleep in his arms.

Lucifer woke with a start, his arm moving over the empty bed beside him, confirming what he aleady knew. He had been dreaming again. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, sighing.

He would have to talk to Linda. This was getting ridiculous. Or maybe he should just stop sleeping altogether. He shook his head, recalling how that had turned out for him last time.

He sat up in bed, suddenly angry. The devil didn't pine. Especially when there was no reason to. Things could have gone far worse. Chloe had finally seen the real him, and she'd taken it rather well, all things considered. She hadn't run, or screamed, or had a meltdown. She'd just told him, calmly, that she would need some time to digest this new reality.

They continued working cases together, and at first he thought that everything was fine, that against all odds, she had accepted him. But then every time he suggested to do something outside of work, like a game night, Chloe would shoot him down without fail.

She started avoiding him more and more, going so far as to drive separately to crime scenes. At some point, he stopped visiting her at the precinct altogether, just going directly to where he needed to be when she called him in.

She was polite and respectful towards him, but he couldn't help but feel shunned. They could be standing next to each other, but it would still feel to him like she was far away, distant, unreachable. He noticed that she made an effort never to be alone with him, always surrounding herself with other people when he was present.

If he was honest with himself, he was just waiting for the bomb to finally go off, at this point. For her to tell him that she wanted him out of her life, that the real him was too much for her to handle. And she would be right. It would probably be better for her if she never saw him again. If he weren't so weak, he would have walked away himself.

His phone rang, drawing him out of his reverie. He looked at it and sighed. Another murder, another day of standing right next to the detective without being able to reach out to her. He should let it go to voice mail. She didn't need him to solve cases, she was a great detective. He should set them both free. He sighed again, and picked up the call.