A/N - With everything that's been going on recently, I held off on uploading this chapter. However, the extra time meant I was able to write another monster of a chapter.

Special thank you to Adriana, Laetitia-chan, ElekTroz, XxSchlottixX, Chico, MyCrazyFangirlLife, Cathy Sullins, Dobby and Padfoot, XJudgeX, Akuma's knight, Patougv, MayaMM, and everyone else who follows and favorites.

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Fifteen - Soul Meets Body

He wasn't in his own bed. That was the first thought Lucifer had as the last vestiges of already forgotten dreams fled. For one, the thread count was completely wrong, not to mention the cheap linen sheets beneath him were bristly as cactus compared to his silken pairs at home. Waking up in someone else's bed was hardly an abnormal occurrence for him but something about this time felt off. There were no warm bodies besides his, no feelings of satisfaction which typically followed a night of debauchery.

Wriggling, he unearthed himself from beneath the thick comforter, squinting against the watery morning light. An AC unit whirled loudly, making such a racket, he wondered how he had managed to get any sleep in the first place. He tucked his foot, which hung off the edge of the too small bed, back under the warm blankets. Twisting his head, he looked around the room blearily.

Oh right, they had spent the night in a motel.

Raising himself a few inches, he could just make out Chloe's outline in the other bed. She was bundled in blankets, back to him as she slept peacefully. Her hair was free of its typical ponytail, long strands in disarray as they flopped all over her pillow. The air from the AC unit above them caused a few loose strands to dance feebly but otherwise she was motionless.

If Chloe was still asleep, then it must be horrifically early. She was one of those loathsome 'morning people', one of her few flaws. Well, that and the whole being immune to his devilish abilities. He still hadn't found an answer to that particular phenomenon, not that he'd looked into it too hard.

He wriggled on his stomach to get a look at the cheap digital clock sat on the table between the two beds. His back tingled, a rubber band snapping against his skin in protest of stretching so early, but he ignored it.

The blinking green numbers on the clock read 6:30 am.

Well that was far too early an hour for him to even consider being awake. Pushing his face back into the lumpy pillow, he hid from the light seeping through the thin curtains. Why did all motel rooms seem to inevitably face the sunrise? It was a piss poor design choice in his opinion.

Grumbling to himself about the incompetence of humans, he willed sleep to return. For a time, he was nearly successful. A dozing haze crept over him, not enough to lull him under fully but darkening the edges of his consciousness. The void he was searching for, however, stoutly refused him access. The flaws of the room were now too obvious to ignore, dragging him back each time he almost fell into a sounder sleep. The air was so cooled, it was nearly painful for his skin, more accustomed to Hell's boiling temperatures. His blankets were scratchy, rubbing against his bare scars like kitten claws - not quite sharp enough to hurt but certainly an uncomfortable sensation all the same. And the blasted pillow!

Pressing his forehead into the monstrosity, he tried to knead out the pool ball sized lumps. He didn't remember the pillow being so intolerable last night. In fact, it had been rather soft, though firm, and warm. It had moved too, almost like breath-

The memory struck him hard, a frying pan to the back of the head. Gentle hands caressing his hair, his face. A gurgling stomach tucked beneath his head. Smaller, slender legs threaded between his own. He could recall every touch, shivers he had never experienced running though his abdomen as he bathed in an undemanding affection born from neither lust nor expectation.

He'd never meant to share anything about his family. The way Chloe had spoken about her father though, the glimmer in her eyes born from equal parts joy and sadness, had implored him to offer something in return. When speaking with Linda, he was always acutely aware of the fact it was merely her job to listen. Few humans he had met were interested in listening simply for the sake of doing so. There were always ulterior motives at work. He supposed it was only natural that creatures possessing free will would be a mite self conceited. And in Los Angeles, being self centered was very nearly its own personality, complete with expensive makeup and failed acting careers.

Needless to say, he doubted the doctor would have been interested in his personal life if he hadn't been paying her in return, remarkable he might be. The rest of him? Oh that definitely had her undivided attention. Or it had at least.

So, he'd fumbled through some explanation of his upbringing and thoroughly ruined the companionable mood he and Chloe had been sharing. She should have been cross with him, he'd certainly expected it at least, as he stamped on her good memories with his own dour upbringing. No one wanted to hear about his 'daddy issues', as Maze had snidely dubbed them.

To his dismay, and no small amount of horror, Chloe had encouraged him when he faltered. She hadn't demanded more than he was willing to share, no probing questions following his every sentence, no sign she was digging deeper. She'd simply let him talk until his inclination fled.

Then, of all things, she'd apologized.

The sorrow which lined her face had been unmistakable, though he was unsure of the cause. Linda had said something about this during that last disastrous session. What had it been? That Chloe felt hurt for him?

He still didn't quite understand the concept but in that moment it was obvious that Chloe was sympathetic towards him. Then, all reason had fled.

No one sympathized with the Devil. Not his demons, not his family, and certainly not humanity. He was the biblical scapegoat, an offering his father had served on a silver platter for humans to use as an excuse for their sins - the Devil made me do it. At least once a month, someone or other threw together a little protest outside Lux, so thoroughly disgusted by his name, they decided he needed to be run out of town. If only they knew the truth, would they dare knock at his door then? He doubted it.

The hypocrisy of it all didn't escape him. When a human's free will was threatened, wars raged. Humanity wouldn't tolerate losing their freedom. Yet they despised the Devil for daring to ask for the same. No one fought on his behalf.

Turning his head enough to reveal one eye, he stared at Chloe. Did she know she was the first one to ever genuinely offer him any morsel of remorse? A large part of that was probably because she didn't believe he was the Devil but… well, he'd never lied to her had he? Surely some part of her must believe him, no doubt hidden beneath layers of logic and facts. If she cared so much while thinking he was human, would knowing the monster really change her perspective?

He snorted to himself, hiding his face back in the pillow. Of course knowing would change her. Religious or not, everyone knew the Ruler of Hell was the embodiment of evil. It would be asking far too much for her to look past that. Fortunately, her incessant need for facts and evidence meant, unless he chose to reveal his true face, she would never truly believe he was the Devil.

As unexpected as her apology had been though, what had followed bordered on miraculous.

Cuddling wasn't exactly a foreign concept to him. Some humans were grabby after sex and he'd have to wait until they fell asleep to escape to the other side of the bed. He was enough of a gentleman to not simply slink off in the middle of the night when he happened to stay over - he refused to stoop low enough to engage in a walk of shame. Besides, morning sex was always a pleasent way to start the day.

He never initiated the contact though, even with his regular visitors, and most didn't seem to mind his disinterest in playing at being a couple. Actually, many welcomed his no strings attached routine.

All that had gone out the window with Chloe.

He'd felt weird after talking about his family, like he had overshared and bothered her somehow. Even if she hadn't voiced any complaints about him speaking so freely, he had been on edge, looking for… dammit, why did he have so much trouble with this?

Whatever, he'd wanted something, some sign he hadn't horribly misread the situation and been an utter prat. Even that had been new for him. Usually he didn't give a toss one way or the other how others felt about him, Devil blaming aside. Chloe was different though. Her opinion genuinely mattered to him. He hadn't even realized how much until then, confronted with the possibility she was judging him.

When she'd first tried to pull him down beside her, he'd thought it was sex she was after. And though he may have drifted off to that particular fantasy many a time, thinking she wanted to sleep with him after he'd just metaphorically bared his soul to her had stung like a kidney punch. So, he'd done the last thing he ever thought he would do and resisted, intending to escape off to some bar where he could drown himself in low quality alcohol and pretend he had never opened his mouth.

Chloe had been persistent though and remarkably reassuring, so he'd given in, expecting a repeat of the Sadie incident. Instead, she'd settled him down and just… petted him.

The gesture had nearly been too much, filled to the brim with affection. Unconditional was the word that kept popping into his head, though he knew such a thing didn't exist. Everyone had a breaking point, where caring became too burdensome. Chloe's tolerance was, evidently, exorbitantly high, for which he was grateful. He wasn't ready to lose their friendship, especially now.

He knew he had fallen asleep on her and had a fuzzy recollection of being woken up and directed to his own bed some time later. Honestly, it wasn't altogether important. All he knew was, for the perhaps first time on Earth, and definitely Hell, he'd felt safe enough to sleep soundly entangled with someone else.

It bloody terrified him.

She could have destroyed him in that moment, even he knew that. The tightrope he'd balanced on, she'd held the other end. One lazy twitch of her hand could have sent him tumbling down to be lost to flames. She hadn't betrayed him though, instead guiding him safely into her arms.

Still, it worried him that he'd even put himself in such a position in the first place. Worse, his nerves were still singing for more. The ghost of her hand tracing his ear, rubbing along his brow, just thinking about it made his skin tingle.

He'd never felt this way before, never yearned for anything so personal. Sex, partying, alcohol, none of that was nearly this complicated. There were no feelings involved.

Plenty of feeling had been involved last night though. He couldn't name the emotions he'd experienced, the feelings transcending his limited understanding of those shadowed between anger, happiness, and sadness. Usually, not being able to articulate how he felt was merely a slight inconvenience. What need did he have to label?

Now though, he couldn't begin to understand any of what he was experiencing.

The more he thought about it all, the more agitated he became.

Reassurance, that's what he'd wanted from Chloe. He shuddered in disgust at the revelation, gritting his teeth and fisting a hand in the fabric of his trousers.

The Devil didn't need reassurance or approval or anything else of that nature. Maze's opinions didn't much matter to him and neither should Chloe's. He'd been weak last night, confused by his avalanche of conflicting emotions. That was the only explanation for his behavior.

His mouth soured as he remembered how he'd kneeled before her, silently begging for her to ease his insecurities like a dog waiting for some modicum of acknowledgement. She had indulged him, petting him like the pathetic whelp he was. And worst of all, he'd bloody enjoyed every moment of it.

Maze had been calling him soft for months. He hadn't believed it. Sure, he had lost some of the intensity he carried around in Hell but that was the whole point of retiring. No more making demons into examples through violent slaughter. No more torturing souls because it was the only way he could feel anything besides that endless sucking void of numbed despair. No more waiting to be betrayed or trapped or deceived by his hellish legions.

Becoming soft though? No, that wouldn't do. He was still an angel, albeit a disgraced one. Divinity and hellfire coursed through him in equal measures. Not a force on Earth was capable of causing him serious harm - though he still had his doubts about nuclear bombs.

The tingling in his back had become steady throbs, a squeezing just bordering on painful. Aching muscles did nothing to ease his disquiet. If anything, the unwelcome addition was stirring him into a mess of repressed frustration.

He could not bear to remain in such a vulnerable position as laying prostrate for a moment longer. Rising on his elbows, he went to roll out of bed and find his flask for a little self medication before he ended up breaking something.

He wasn't expecting the fiery burn which tore through his back, every muscle seizing so forcefully, he jerked hard enough to cause the headboard to smack against the wall.

Choking on a moan, he let his arm give out and drop him back onto the sheets. The ache from yesterday had amplified a hundred fold. Lying imobile did nothing to ease the bone deep throbs like it usually would. Instead, the pain compounded, a violent squeezing and pulling as tattered flight muscles screamed in agony.

He writhed, pressing into the mattress in a fruitless attempt to escape. His body wasn't cooperating though, smaller shoots of pain driving through both sets of shoulder blades and down his spine, even his toes flexing hard enough he feared for the tendons in his feet.

"Lucifer!"

Hands, gentle but insistent, were on his bare back. His very skin was burning though and he bucked hard, dislodging the cold hands. They retreated, only to resettle higher, fingers wrapping around his shoulders.

He went completely boneless, breathing fast and shallow against the punishing waves sparking from the center of his being.

"Lucifer, are you okay? What happened?" Chloe's voice was tight but her touch remained feather light as she rubbed his shoulders.

He didn't bother answering, instead focusing on the way his body felt like it was strung up on a livewire. Adrenaline was coursing through him, blood rushing in his ears. That sense he'd had yesterday that something was wrong? Now it was a wailing tornado siren.

Blindly, he reached out for the nightstand, smacking his hand against the sharp corner in his blind haste.

"Woah, easy." One of Chloe's hands left his back, only to grab his wrist. "Stop flailing."

He growled, just about the only sound he was capable of making. Strangled groans were lodged in his throat and he knew opening his mouth would release them.

He wasn't weak.

Tearing his wrist free from Chloe, he dragged himself towards the edge of the bed, aiming for the motel phone.

"Lucifer, stop!" Chloe's tone crept upward toward panicked. "I need you to tell me what's wrong! Is it your back?"

Ignoring her, he fumbled for the phone. His hand was shaking uncontrollably and he knocked both the lamp and digital clock to the floor before capturing his target. Vision swimming, he dialed by touch, dragging the phone to his face. Chloe was still talking, her hands back on his shoulders as she tried vainly to restrain him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, listening to the line ring.

Once.

Twice.

The third ring cut off as someone finally answered. "Whoever the fuck this is, this better be fucking important!"

"Maze," he gasped. Or at least, he hoped that was what he'd said. His tongue wasn't cooperating, nor for the matter, was anything else. He couldn't stop shaking.

"Lucifer? Is that you? What the hell's going on?" The hostility was dropped immediately.

"Wings."

"What are you talking about? Where are you?"

"Wings… hurts." He really couldn't make this any clearer. One syllable words were his limit. Dimly, he was aware of Chloe leaning over him, her hands searching his body. "Hurts," he repeated.

"Lucifer, I don't-" And that was all he heard before the phone was wrenched away from him.

"Maze? This is Chloe. I'm here with Lucifer. Something's wrong, he's in a lot of pain."

He needed that phone back! Something was grievously wrong with his wings, he was certain of it now.

Attempting to roll over, he was halted when Chloe unceremoniously sat astride his waist, using her full weight to pin him face down.

"Lucifer, I need you to stop moving. What, Maze? No, no he's freaking out. I'm afraid he's going to hurt himself."

In any other circumstance, he could have easily thrown Chloe off with his superior strength. Summoning enough force was, at the moment, impossible for him however. Sinking back into the bed, he stopped fighting, focusing on forcing air into his lungs with harsh, shallow gulps.

Chloe was still on the phone, or he thought she was at least. Every nerve from his neck to his hips was firing wildly. Vaguely, he noticed that her weight was helping actually. Sitting as she was, so low on his back, she was unknowingly stretching the muscles around his spine. They still burned plenty but the stabbing edge dulled. Or maybe he was just becoming accustomed to the pain.

His mind narrowed in, blocking out the outside world. At some point, Chloe climbed off him but he didn't move, focusing on each individual throb and following the painful waves as they traveled from muscle to muscle.

She returned, settling something across his scars. He whined in opposition, still sensitive skin feeling stripped raw. Chloe shushed him in return, the mattress dipping as she sat. After several minutes, she removed whatever she'd placed on his back, only to repeat the process a moment later. A warm washcloth, he realized.

He wanted to tell her to stop, that his high running temperature meant her makeshift hot compress was useless, but his pain was, slowly and steadily, settling into something more manageable. It still hurt like hell - oh a pun, he must be getting better then - but he would no longer consider it debilitating.

When Chloe went to switch the cloth for the fourth time, he chanced raising his head. The room was much lighter than before, the strong yellow of the sunrise turned opaque. His eyes smarted from how tightly they'd been closed, tears reflexively welling. He blinked them away, not wanting Chloe to see.

The sink was running in the bathroom and he used this brief moment to awkwardly maneuver himself, without being scrutinized, until he was sitting upright. He wasn't near ready to chance standing but sitting was a definite improvement. It gave the illusion he was put together at least. The tap shut off and Chloe reappeared with a newly wrung out cloth.

"Oh," she said upon seeing his change in position. "Maybe you should lie back down."

"I'm fine," he answered automatically, holding his upper body still as possible. Just the small act of breathing hurt but at least he was coherent again.

Chloe's lips tightened. "I'm just curious, what exactly is your definition of fine? Because," she sat beside him hard enough to bounce the mattress and he hissed as the motion sent another firecracker up his spine, "thirty minutes ago you could hardly speak."

"It's relative, Detective," he deflected.

"Riiiight." She was glowering at him now. "Let's say you were hit by a car and only broke, oh, I dunno, three of your limbs. Would that still constitute, to you, as 'being fine'?"

He sensed the landmine, though he wasn't sure how to avoid stepping on it. His little ordeal had left him exhausted despite the early hour they'd retired last night, his typical wit lacking. "It depends. Which three limbs did I break in this hypothetical situation?"

Chloe did not appreciate his humor. "Lucifer, I am so not kidding around right now. You were shaking so bad I thought you were having a seizure!"

"Yes well, it's over now isn't it? Mostly," he amended with a wince as she bounced the mattress again pointedly.

"Please tell me it's not usually like this."

He shook his head. "No. This was new."

"Then why," she trailed off, eyes widening. "Was it the bed? Is that why you wanted to stay somewhere nicer? You should've said something!"

"No, no it wasn't the bed." He hurried to reassure her, not liking the guilt he saw written clearly across her face. "It was my wings."

"Your wings." She glanced towards his back.

"They're not there anymore, remember?"

Chloe hesitated, as she often did whenever he brought up anything related to his true nature. She didn't like indulging him, even jokingly, which he found amusing in its own way, but by Dad did it make it harder to have these kinds of conversations.

"So it's just your scars that hurt?" She sidestepped the wing issue entirely.

"Oh, you misunderstand me. It's not exactly my back that hurts, moreso my flight muscles." Though the aching had not let up much, he still managed to smile at Chloe's gobsmacked look.

"Lucifer, people don't have… flight muscles."

"And as I've told you nearly every day since we've met, I'm the Devil."

Chloe frowned, but as usual, did not comment. Instead, she forged on like he'd never said anything. "I don't think any pharmacies are opened this early but I can go and get you painkillers or something later if you need them."

"Thank you for the offer but Tylenol's not going to work, I'm afraid. I'll just have a hot shower and everything should sort itself out."

She bit her lip. "And if that doesn't work? Lucifer, you're barely breathing. I know you're still in pain."

He would've waved off her concern but that would require moving his arms, which was probably not in his best interest at the moment, so instead he sniffed disbelievingly.

She scowled at him. "Okay, you know what? We're redefining what 'fine' means."

"You can't give a word a new definition," he protested.

"Why not?" She challenged and there was no mistaking that no nonsense look in her eyes. "You do it all the time. Lucifer, you're literally the only person on this planet who thinks having three broken limbs is still 'fine'. You said the same thing when your brother broke your rib!"

"I don't see the problem." What did his injuries matter, truly? Even if he died, and he still wasn't sure that was possible even with his sporadic invulnerability, his Pentacostal coin would get him back to Earth in a matter of minutes.

"Really? Because I do. What if you got hurt and gave me that 'I'm fine' bullshit, I believed you, and then you had to be hospitalized because you are not a doctor and therefore do not have the knowledge to self diagnose yourself?" Her hands gripped her knees hard, creating even more wrinkles in the jeans she'd slept in. "Our job is dangerous and we need to be on the same page when it comes to injuries. Like today, what if we go to see this woman and she shoots at us? Are you well enough to duck a bullet and find cover?"

"So what do you suggest then?" He asked, dodging the question. Honestly, he was confident he could drop and avoid a gunshot but get back up again? That may be a little beyond him at the moment. Not that Chloe would ever hear him admit that.

"Injuries that can be classified as fine are non-life threatening and do not require stitches, restrict movement, or cause more than the recommended amount of blood loss - which is none by the way. That includes paper cuts, stubbed toes, bug bites, and razor nicks," she counted off on her fingers. "Seriously, if it's not one of those, I want to know about it."

He turned that over in his head. Paper could cut humans? Why did they insist on using it then? Perhaps now was not the best time to ask though. If he didn't know any better, he'd say Chloe was angry at him. Which was preposterous, he'd hardly done anything more than wake up!

"Should I call you every time I find a hangnail?" He asked, miffed by the entire conversation. Wingless he might be, he was still an archangel in all but name. He didn't need looking after. This whole thing was pointless.

Unless… did Chloe think he needed to be coddled? The past twenty-four hours hadn't done his ego any favors and she had been witness to it all.

The walls came up as he hardened himself. He wasn't weak or soft or needed to be looked after. Last night had been an anomaly, that was all.

"Don't be like that," she said flatly. "I'm worried about you."

"I don't need you to be."

The remark was instinctive, his usual response when Maze became too protective and he needed to re-establish his superiority. It never seemed to hurt his little demon, though he wasn't sure if she was capable of that particular emotion. Crass words were how they communicated after all and most of the time they found it almost funny.

Chloe wasn't laughing. Nor did she look angry anymore. Instead, her face had fallen into an expression he could not quite interpret. She looked almost sad, if not for the knowing glint in her eyes. He found it off putting.

"No you don't, do you." Though it was phrased as such, it very clearly wasn't a question.

Lucifer cocked his head. "Yes, well, glad we cleared that up." At least, he thought so. She hadn't contradicted him.

He studied her from the corner of his eye, trying to glean what she was feeling. Reading people was something he prided himself on. Every twitch of the lips, every fluttering eyelash, he could read it as all easily as Hebrew. Lies and desires may well be tattooed on the flesh for him to peruse and taste.

Something was evidently wrong with Chloe's facial features, beautiful they may be, for her to be such a mystery to him. Botox perhaps? She'd never struck him at the type but one never knew.

While he scrutinized her, Chloe's gaze drifted off somewhere across the room. Her brow puckered that way it did when she was going over evidence, connections stitching themselves together. What those connections were, he had no idea.

She snapped to, locking him with an intense gaze. "Life's not just about what you do and don't need, Lucifer. It's about wants too."

His lips parted, torn between laughing and snorting. Was she taking the piss? His entire life was driven by every wanton want which crossed his mind. He felt like dinner in France? Best buy a private jet. Maze wanted a sharp new toy? He had it smuggled in. A new movie piqued his interest? Might as well buy out the entire theater for himself and a chosen few.

"Have you forgotten who you're talking to?" he chuckled. "Really Detective, I assure you, most things I want, I get."

"Material things yes but I'm not talking about whatever you've got in your wine cellar or your closet." She spun to face him, pulling her feet up on the bed. "There's a lot of things people can live without, even if it's not healthy. Friendship. Love. Support. I do believe it when you say you don't need me to care about you. You're the most independent person I've ever met. But just because you can live without those things, doesn't mean you have to."

Love? Support? She was right, he didn't need those things. Nor did he particularly want them either. He didn't want to have this conversation. If not for his back, he'd already have gone out to smoke or retreat for a shower. He picked at the bedspread, wishing desperately for something with which to occupy his hands.

Chloe gave him a minute to add something but when he resolutely remained silent, she sighed. "Is this about last night? Did I overstep?"

"I - I don't know." Frustration laced his words, his tumultuous thoughts from before returning full force. He was utterly torn. His very essence was pulled apart, only a few sagging threads keeping him together, as mind and soul waged war on one another.

"Then I'm sorry."

Again with the apologies.

"Don't be, that's not what I meant." What did he mean? He didn't even know. How could he explain this to her when he himself didn't understand?

"I don't-"

"No one's ever done that before, okay?" The admission was a rock in his gut. "And… bloody hell… I just don't know."

Bracing a hand against the headboard, he hauled himself to his feet. The edges of his vision grew fuzzy, pain cascading from his back to his feet, but he refused to so much as flinch.

Chloe was beside him in an instant, hands hovering near his arm. "Shit, Lucifer, what are you doing?"

"I'm going to take a shower. We still have a suspect to interrogate."

No more ruminating. He shoved everything that had happened last night, the apologies and gentle words, into that battered tin box deep in his mind with all those other memories he didn't want. Memories of creating the stars. Of playing with siblings under the once indulging gaze of their Father. Of an endless tumble through a vast void as he fell and screamed and screamed -

He looked around the room, spying his shirt and jacket draped on a chair. Walking over gingerly, he collected his clothes and his overnight bag. Thankfully, he had left the bag on the dresser. There was no way he could've bent down and gotten it off the floor.

The whole time, Chloe stood behind him, arms crossed as she worried at her lip. He refused to look in her direction, patting down his jacket pockets as he searched for his flask.

"Could you call Maze for me?" He pulled the flask out of the inner jacket pocket, unscrewing the top and taking a massive swallow. "Tell her I want my shipping container checked. She'll know what that means."

"Oh, um, yeah. Sure."

Her voice warbled with uncertainly and he stomped out the urge to look at her. Last night had been an anomaly, not the first of his immeasurable life and certainly not the last. Chloe may want to talk about it but he had other things to put his energy towards. Things that actually mattered.

He nodded, replacing his flask. "Thank you." Hobbling to the cramped bathroom, he shut the door without a backwards glance.

The room was hardly larger than a closet, the sink wedged tightly in the corner. Setting his bag on the vanity, he unpacked a new shirt, socks, and hair products. He would have to wear yesterday's suit - there was no practical way to pack one without creating creases - but he put his foot down at wearing the same shirt two days in a row.

Undressing slowly, he wondered if he would have time to iron his trousers. The wrinkles caused by sleeping in them were ruining the cut. Maybe if he hung them up, the heat from the shower would steam the fabric. As he looked for a viable place, he kept an ear trained on the room beyond. Chloe's voice reached him. Though he couldn't make out any individual words, he knew her soft tone, undercut as it usually was by an authoritative edge. Though, last night that edge had been lost to a quieter cadence.

He jerked his head as if he could shake off the memories like water. They clung to him, barbs digging into his brain and fiercely holding on.

Control, he always had it. Every step, every interaction, they happened on his terms alone. Spontaneous things occurred, certainly, but his gift meant he could redirect any conversation, drag out those delicious hidden desires and then decide how to proceed. He wasn't a chess piece, he was the chessmaster. Humans only ever learned what he allowed them to see of himself. In the meantime, he could strip them down to their most fundamental level, discover what lit their very souls. Vulnerability simply wasn't a word in his vocabulary.

He'd been the victim once, his body bound and broken by the hands of others, and it would never happen again. From the moment he'd risen from the Lake of Fire, reborn and asserted a king, he had ceased to be anyone's plaything.

Now, he found himself in the reverse situation. None of his abilities worked on Chloe and that gave her the control. Last night, he'd been the vulnerable one, submitting himself to her in a way he'd never known a being could. He'd felt naked, and not in a good way, like she was seeing right through his persona, scraping at that which lay below.

He could not allow it to happen again.

Without an audience, he didn't fake his lameness, movements jerky as he kicked off his trousers, remembering a moment too late that he couldn't reach the floor. Using his foot, he managed to pick up the fabric with his toes and drop it on the closed toilet seat. From there, he did an odd little squat to pick them up. A hook was on the back of the door and he hung the trousers by the belt still in the loops.

Stepping towards the shower tub combo, he fiddled around with the showerhead settings. A spurt of ice cold water sputtered out and he sharply withdrew his hand, waiting for the temperature to warm before daring to step inside.

Returning to where he'd left his overnight bag, he pulled out his own traveler's size shampoo and conditioner bottles as well as a bar of soap. Collecting these, he returned to the shower.

He checked the water temperature again, this time satisfied, and climbed over the edge of the bath with decidedly ungraceful movements. Stepping into the spray, he closed his eyes and let the heat seep into him. His scars burned but were quickly soothed as he rested his forehead against the tiled wall. It took longer for the heat to penetrate his skin and reach the damage below. He turned the temperature up as far as it would go, the metal knob squealing. The air grew thick and heavy, droplets collecting on the tiled walls.

Still, he found the temperature unsatisfactory. His penthouse shower ran much hotter than this roach motel. It was larger too, he thought sourly, as he turned and smacked his elbow against the wall, only to stub his toe as he shuffled sideways.

And now his invulnerability was on the fritz again! Wiggling his stinging toe, he lathered his hair liberally with shampoo. His sporadic vulnerability issues had been very low on his list of concerns, to the constant ire of Maze. He would have to make it more of a priority though because he was tired of accumulating so many injuries. His back already provided him with plenty of that, thank you very much. And now that he'd learned that paper could cut flesh… what other traps did humans leave lying around? Were toasters dangerous? What about staplers?

As he weighed the unrecognized dangers lurking in his penthouse, he rinsed his hair. Rivets of froth ran down his face, tickling behind his ears. Running a hand through his hair, he tugged at a few knots. Thank Dad he had brought his hair products, otherwise he'd have to deal with those poncy curls on top of everything else.

The fire lighting up his flight muscles had smoldered down to a hard nugget of pain lodged somewhere deep in his core. There was nothing he could do for it at the moment but at least it was a major improvement. When they returned to Los Angeles, he would soak in the hottub for a bit. He could invite up a few early club goers, make a party out of it. A wet, naked party-

His thoughts were torn away from the image of supple flesh as his eyes began to sting. Now, it was true he hadn't been sleeping around as much these past few weeks, but that hardly constituted tears of all things. Swiping at his eyes, he was alarmed as the stinging only increased. Crying wasn't this painful.

Rubbing harder, he tried to identify when he'd last felt such an odd burning sensation. Oh right, when he'd gotten soap in his bullet graze. He hadn't even touched the soap though. All he'd done was shampoo his hair. Unless…

Shampoo could hurt humans too? What the fuck was wrong with his father's creations? Were they all masochists?

Eyes slitted, he thrusted the shower curtain aside, searching blindly for a towel. The first bit of fabric he came into contact with, he drew back into the shower, knocking over his conditioner bottle in the process.

Okay, he was officially over new experiences. Period. He'd had his fill of pain and emotions. The novelty was long gone. He wanted his invulnerability back, stat.

The burning receded as he rubbed furiously, though his eyes remained raw. At least the towel was soft, he hadn't expected that in such a lowly place. Looking down to check the brand, he noticed the fabric in his hands was blue. He frowned to himself. If he wasn't mistaken - and was he ever? - the motel towels were white. Stomach dropping, his unballed the soaked fabric, revealing his formerly clean shirt.

Bollocks.

As he watched his shirt grow dark and heavy from the shower spray, a boiling anger churned in his gut.

The last twenty four hours had not gone in his favor at all. Hand holding. Cuddles. Sharing family drama like a bloody teenage girl at a sleepover. And now his shirt was ruined.

He wanted control. He demanded it of this warped little universe his father had created. His family could inflict their will all they bloody well pleased but when it came to him, the so called disgraced angel who'd learned to wield both the fire and divinity, he chose his own path.

Chloe was wrong. He had everything he'd ever wanted at his fingertips.

He had just tossed his shirt onto the bathroom floor when there was a hesitant knock on the door.

"Detective?" he called, sticking his head out of the shower even as his anger evaporated.

The door crept open a few inches but Chloe did not come into the room. "Are you okay? I heard banging."

"I dropped the conditioner."

"Oh. Right. You're not… are you still hurting?" She labored over each word, as if she were handing picking the ripest apples from the tree.

He hated when humans did that.

"No. The shower's just a bit cramped. Though," he smirked, "I reckon two people could still fit."

Teasing. That was why everything was so off balanced. Their usual relationship was him teasing her relentlessly and Chloe rolling her eyes while pretending to be annoyed at his exquisite charms. He should've done that last night the moment she'd tried to get him to lie down with her. One little innuendo and she would've kicked him out of the bed and saved both of them from the embarrassment of this morning.

"In your dreams."

"Oh, but I already do dream about it," he purred. "Of course, I've never imagined us copulating in such a confined space. It would require a fair bit of acrobatics and my own flexibility may not cut it, remarkable as that is." He dropped his voice an octave. "What say you, Detective? Have you ever done yoga?"

The door slammed shut, rattling the mirror over the vanity. He chuckled to himself, imagining the blush she was no doubt sporting. He finished his shower in much higher spirits than before, not even the twinge of pain caused from bending over to retrieve the conditioner bottle able to dampen his spirits.

He redressed in his old clothes, annoyed to find his trousers were still horribly wrinkled. Between that and yesterday's shirt, he was looking decidedly unkempt. To offset the abysmal state of his clothes, he put extra care into his hair and eyeliner. The effect wasn't quite up to his usual standard but unless there was a tailor in Fresno who did same day alterations, it would have to do.

Repacking his overnight bag, he walked into the main room. Chloe was sitting on a chair by the window, curtains drawn back as she read her casefile. It wasn't an atypical scene for the Detective, aside from the fact she was reading the file upside down.

"I think they're being metaphorical when they say to look at the case from a different angle," he noted, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on his shoes.

Her eyes snapped up. "What?"

"Your file," he gestured. "It's the wrong way up."

"No it's no - oh." She flipped the manila file the other way. "I was just looking at some of the crime scene photos," she said defensively.

"The ones that haven't been developed yet?"

"How would you know?" she asked waspishly.

He shrugged, standing again. "Because we left before that miserable fellow with the camera returned. He was the one Daniel was going to catch a ride with." A thought struck him. "I didn't frazzle your brain earlier did I? Perhaps it was all too much, first seeing me shirtless and then my offer to share the shower."

"I hate to break it to you buddy, but a Greek statue you are not." She closed the file, shoving it back into her briefcase.

"Of course I'm not! The Greeks loved giving their heroes micro penises and I assure you, my-" he was cut off as a pillow smacked him in the face.

"No! It's nine in the morning and I haven't had my coffee. We are not talking about that. It's too early."

He held the pillow loosely in his hands. "So, we'll finish this discussion later?"

He decided to interpret the next pillow that hit him as a definite maybe.

After eating a breakfast of vending machine crisps and cookies, they checked out of the motel and headed back to the Moore residence. Chloe had refused to let their conversations drift away from their current case, a punishment no doubt. What else was it supposed to be when rehashing details was so boring?

She had called Maze at least, which eased Lucifer's worry considerably. His demon would have everything cleared up by the time he returned to Los Angeles. And just in time too. His back had begun to hurt once he'd gotten in the car. It wasn't the dizzying fire from before but he wasn't looking forward to the four hour ride home.

They pulled into the same spot as yesterday, just across the street from the lopsided house. Precious little was different. The same overflowing garbage cans slumped besides crooked chain link fences. There was a hopeless feel about the whole place, the poverty thick in the air like the scent of roadkill on a July day. Even Chloe seemed to be affected, her eyes darting around. Still, she forged ahead with her usual confidence, striding up to the front door and rapping loudly.

He followed, detouring slightly to get a look through the front window. Unlike last night, there was a light on inside the house, a vague shape moving around.

"Lucifer, stop that," Chloe hissed from the stoop.

"Someone's home." He climbed up beside her, sandwiching them together on the small bit of concrete.

"I know, there's a car in the driveway." She rolled her eyes.

Was there? He leaned back and, sure enough, there sat the saddest little Honda he'd ever seen. Did it even count as a car if it was mostly rust?

His quandaries were cut short as the door opened a few inches, a mistrustful eye glaring out.

"Who are you?" the nasty eye asked.

"I'm Detective Chloe Decker with the LAPD and this is my partner. We're looking for a Lisa Moore."

The door opened a few inches more, exposing a tiny, angry woman. "You're out of your jurisdiction."

"Ma'am, we're not here to cause trouble. We just have a few-" The door slammed shut. "Great." She threw her hands up. "Thanks for your time."

"Pity. Can I kick the door in now?"

She glared at him. "In what universe would I give you permission to break into the home of someone we want to interview?"

"Yes, I suppose you're right." He nodded thoughtfully before brightening. "Or you could break down the door. You have the badge."

She facepalmed. "If you'd bothered to read those books on procedure I'd gotten for you, you'd know that counts as excessive force."

"Well, our suspect is being excessively rude. Isn't there a sub clause or something for special circumstances?"

"How is this situation special?" she demanded.

He shrugged, hands tucked in his pockets. "She's being awfully disrespectful towards you. Not that I can blame her fully. I still think your little organization is corrupt, but you're alright. You've only broken the law, what, three times in my presence? That surely must be a better record than Daniel."

Oh lovely, she was doing the fish impression again, gaping at him like a pet store guppy.

"Lucifer, we cannot break in just because she slammed the door on us." She stressed every word. "Just… just knock again, please."

He did so, rapping smartly, and waited. After several moments, the door opened again.

"I thought I told you-" the old woman was cut off as Lucifer interjected himself between her and Chloe.

"I apologize for my partner Mrs…"

"Moore," she breathed, eyes glazing over slightly as she got a good look at him, eyes sliding down his form. "Lisa Moore."

He smiled. "Charmed, Mrs. Moore. Lucifer Morningstar." He held out his hand, which she eagerly shook. "I can see you're a very busy woman but my partner dragged me all the way here and she has a few questions she wants to ask. Now, you would be doing me a huge favor if you'd humor her. It'll only take a few minutes."

"Oh you poor darling." She shot Chloe a venomous look. "You said you were from Los Angeles? That's at least four hours away. I hope traffic wasn't terrible." She grabbed his sleeve to tug him inside.

He grinned at Chloe over his shoulder as he allowed himself to be led. Chloe followed, eye twitching, and narrowly avoiding being shut outside as Lisa hip checked the door closed.

"I must apologize for my inhospitality. I had to spend the night at my sister's house again because her cancer is back…"

Lucifer half listened to the ramblings, while looking around curiously. The three of them were standing in a cramped foyer. On either side were doorways through which he caught sight of beaten furniture and smoke stained walls. There was an abundance of plants, most of which were caught somewhere between dead and dying. Dust danced in the minimal natural light, settling across the threadbare carpet of unknown color. It looked a bit like when someone at Lux had a bit too much to drink.

"... and then Judy skipped church for that boy toy she has hanging around and thinks none of us know about." Lisa went to take a breath.

"Mrs. Moore," Chloe seized her chance. "Is there someplace we can sit and talk?"

"Detective, don't interrupt! Though, now that my partner has mentioned it, perhaps we should all take a seat." Lucifer placed a hand on the elderly woman's shoulder, gesturing for her to lead the way. "And tell me more about this Judy. She sounds positively scandalous."

"Oh she is! She thinks just because she volunteers at the soup kitchen that atones for all her lovers." She ambled through the door to the left, entering a small sitting room stuffed with over sized couches and armchairs. "Please, take a seat. Would you like anything?"

"Do you have - ow." He jerked away as Chloe elbowed him in the ribs. "Detective?"

"We don't want anything, thank you," she said firmly, giving him the look.

Oh what, now it was inappropriate to accept coffee from a suspect? Annoyed, he collapsed onto the sofa, Chloe following suit.

Lisa looked between them. "Are you quite sure I can't get you anything?" Though she was facing both of them, it was obvious she was only addressing Lucifer.

He shot Chloe a wary look. "If it isn't any trouble, I think my partner and I could use a cuppa." At both women's confused looks, he shook his head slightly. "Tea, I meant. And biscuits? Do you have any of those?"

Despite Chloe's protests, the woman bustled off to the sectioned off kitchen to retrieve their requested drink.

"Really?" she said, exasperated.

He shrugged. "Well, I don't think you should have any coffee. You're a bit high strung today."

She sputtered. "I'm not high strung. And I don't care about the tea. We're here to possibly arrest this woman and you're asking for food?"

"She offered!" he protested. "It would've been rude to decline."

"A moment ago, she was the rude one," she huffed, crossing her arms.

"You're just mad she likes me more. Besides, biscuits."

"You're ridiculous." Despite her reprimand, the corners of her lips ticked upwards into a smile.

Lucifer felt her own mouth twitch to mirror the expression and he scratched behind his ear. Balance had, for the time being at least, been restored. This was good though. Every time Chloe became too touchy feely, he'd just tease her again and everything would settle. That pity and fondness from last night was gone. He ignored the way his stomach dropped at the loss, the stirring of the memory of her hand in his hair.

No. All that was over. He liked their friendship just the way it was.

Lisa returned with a silver serving tray holding several china cups. He accepted one of the tea cups gladly, ignoring Chloe's warning looks as he took a massive swallow. Honestly, if the woman was going to poison the food, she certainly wasn't going to poison him.

"Mrs. Moore, we're here about a few threats you made towards one of the lawyer's in your son's trial."

The woman tensed immediately, setting her own cup down. "That issue has been dealt with already."

"We're here because that same lawyer's daughter was found murdered yesterday."

There was a moment of delicate silence in which all three parties studied one another.

"I don't know why you think that would have anything to do with me," Lisa said carefully.

"We came by last night but no one was home. Do you have an alibi for yesterday morning?"

"Detective, she already told you she was with her sister," Lucifer interjected. "She wasn't lying. I would've known."

"He's right, I was with my sister. She lives just outside the city limits. I stay with her four days a week now that I'm on my own. You're more than welcome to speak with her."

Chloe was working her jaw, a muscle jumping. Uh oh, he was in trouble again.

"We'll be doing that. Even if you had nothing to do with it, you're the only individual so far with a motive."

"Detective," Lisa folded her hands together, eyes sorrowful. "I know what it's like to lose a child, even temporarily. As much as it hurts, my son will be out of prison in ten years. But this woman, she's lost her daughter forever. I could never do that to another parent, never steal their child."

Chloe nodded but Lucifer knew she was frustrated. A declaration such as that was moving but hardly exonerated someone of guilt.

Leaning forwards, he placed his elbows on his knees. "Mrs. Moore, I'm just a bit curious." She looked to him, enthralled in his gaze like a robin lost in the eyes of a snake. "I'm sure there's all sorts of things you're not telling us. Your son was a high ranking gang member, not a low level dealer who got in over his head. So, forgive me for wondering, what secrets are you still hiding. What is it you desire?"

He felt it, the thrumming of his own blood as she fell under his mojo. The air grew thicker, a silent push forwards.

"I want," she hesitated. "I want to hug my son again."

The heaviness receded in a rush, leaving Lisa looking at him in confusion, and Chloe sighing.

"Is there anyone else you can think of who might have had a bad enough grudge against Hong Ying to want to kill her daughter?"

As was often the case after Lucifer's mojo was enacted, suspects continued their sharing mood. "I - well, yes. There was one boy, I don't remember his name, he died in the state prison in a riot only three months after the sentencing."

"He was tried with your son?" Chloe asked, making a note in her pad.

"Yes. They were all tried together. He was… young, younger than the others. Maybe sixteen? But that lawyer, she wanted them all tried as adults and the state agreed."

"Thank you for your time," Chloe said, standing. "We'll be in contact if we have any more questions.

They bid farewell, Lucifer pausing long enough to pocket a few cookies for himself, and returned to their cruiser.

"This was such a waste of time," Chloe complained the moment the car doors closed. She slapped her hand against the steering wheel. "I hope Dan's having better luck."

"Well, we at least narrowed down our list of suspects, marginal it might've been."

"Yeah but we didn't have to come all the way out here," she sighed, putting the car in drive and pulling out. "I just had a feeling about this one y'know? Everything seemed perfect."

"Things seldom are in this world. Just think of Eden. The so-called perfect garden wasn't so perfect in the end was it? Besides," he fished out one of his cookies, "you were being thorough. It's what makes you an excellent detective, boring as it might be sometimes"

She glanced over at him. "You know, sometimes you're the most supportive person when it comes to my job."

His brow furrowed. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No no, it's just… different."

There was more she wanted to say, he could read it in the way her lips parted, throat swallowing away words before they could ever come to fruition.

"A good different?" It was the same question she'd asked him at the beach two days ago.

She laughed. "Yeah, it's a good different. You know, I'm glad we went on this trip, even if we didn't catch our bad guy. I had fun."

"Of course. The Devil and fun are synonymous. Though I could've done without the events of this morning."

His remark sobered Chloe. "Your back, does it really not hurt anymore?"

He hesitated a heartbeat too long. "It does hurt. Not like before though. So long as we avoid potholes, I should be fine."

"And you'll let me know if you're not?" she questioned.

"Yes Detective, I promise."

He had no trouble making the promise. His back hardly hurt and while the ride home may be uncomfortable, he was sure he would pull through. It was only four hours after all. How long was that really when compared to his life? He could do this.

By the end of the first hour, he was reconsidering his prior assessment. The police cruiser was not nearly as smooth as his convertible. Every crack in the pavement traveled through the seat and up his spine. He refused to fidget, not wanting to alarm Chloe.

Deep down, it still rankled him a bit that he'd needed help in the first place. Maze was different, that was her job. But Chloe, she did it out of what? The goodness of her soul?

So he held his silence, reaching into the back seat every so often under the pretense of collecting snacks when in actuality he was giving himself a chance to stretch. He felt a bit bad about deceiving Chloe but he hadn't broken his promise. Besides, she must be tired of having to help him.

Hour two was even more grueling. Everything was still so tender from earlier, like a new scab being ripped off again and revealing the barely healed skin below. Still he persisted, playing with the radio to distract himself.

In the end, he managed to make it to nearly the three hour mark before he admitted defeat.

"Detective, could you pull over soon?" He hated himself for giving in but the Devil never broke a promise. That was the only reason he was giving in.

He wasn't weak.

"We're nearly home, can't you…" she trailed off, understanding what his pride wouldn't allow for him to voice aloud. "Yeah, I'll pull off at the next exit."

Traffic had been blessedly light and within twenty minutes, they were parked at a nearly deserted gas station. Lucifer was out of the car before it had fully stopped, shrugging off his jacket as he undid the first few buttons of his shirt. He began to pace in a lopsided circle around the car, Chloe watching him from where she leaned against the driver's side door.

"You promised to let me know if you started hurting again." The accusation was greatly diminished by her soft expression.

"I'm just stiff." Which was, okay, maybe he was stretching the truth a bit but surely sitting in the cramped car had done him no favors.

At first, walking around seemed to help. However, the initial relief was quick to wear off and soon he found himself lying in the backseat of the car, long legs sticking out. Chloe kneeled backwards in the front seat to face him, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Please just take the Advil, Lucifer. You'll feel better." She poked at the corner of his mouth and he turned his head away.

"It won't help," he said mulishly.

She sighed, rubbing hard at her face with her free hand. "This is the best I can do without a prescription. You're lucky there was even a Rite Aid nearby where I could buy this for you."

He refused to budge. "I don't need it."

"Like hell you don't," she muttered. "You're being a child."

"I heard that."

"Good."

A few minutes passed, Lucifer focusing on the faint breeze tickling his face while Chloe fumbled around in the front seat. Why was this happening to him?

"Can I borrow your phone? I need to check on Maze," he asked.

Whatever issue there was with his wings had not been rectified and now he was concerned. Maze valued his wings more than he did and if anything had befallen them… he just hoped the bloodbath wouldn't be too extensive.

"That depends, will you take the Advil?" Chloe shot back.

"Are you making a deal with the Devil?" He couldn't help but tease.

Her expression darkened. "I guess I have no choice because, you know what? You really, really suck at self care."

"It's not entirely my fault you know. Up until a few months ago, I was invulnerable. This whole thing is new. I didn't even know shampoo was dangerous!"

"That's because it's not. Now, take these." She shoved the pills under his nose and he propped himself up a few inches to dry swallow them.

Wordlessly, she handed over her phone and he dialed Maze. The call immediately went to voicemail so he tried again, to no avail. Next, he tried Lux, but only got one of the bartenders who said they hadn't seen the demon.

"I guess she's busy then." He handed the phone back and laid down again.

"Is this about the shipping container?" Chloe asked. "I told Maze to call me if she needed to get in contact with you."

"I fear something's amiss with my container, yes." He stared at the car ceiling listlessly. What if someone had stolen it? Would they find the secret compartment?

"What's in it? I mean, you don't even have a lock on your penthouse elevator so it must be important."

"Russian dolls." he said tiredly.

If his wings were found and divinity was unleashed in the city, the devastation would be catastrophic. Humans had no way to cope with seeing even a feather, nevermind the bloody wings themselves. They'd kill one another just to get a glimpse, an addict chasing down a high that could never be reached.

Chloe poked his shoulder gently. "Very funny. I thought you didn't lie?"

"I don't. There's really Russian dolls in the container, amongst other things."

"And those other things are?" Her face clouded. "Oh shit, it's not drugs is it? Or contraband?"

"Why do you always jump to the worst conclusions? Why would I store drugs in a shipping container of all places?" he asked, exasperated. "That many kilos of heroin, even I can't fathom what that'd cost."

"You use heroin?"

"Detective, what's with the twenty questions routine?" He sat up, leaning against the car door for support.

"You didn't answer the question." She crossed her arms. "I let you near my family so yeah, I'm concerned that you use illicit substances."

He worked his jaw. "If you must know, I keep the heroin use down to special occasions."

"And the other stuff?"

"We both know I'm no saint. Would you like a look at what's in my sock drawer?"

Why was she asking about this now? It had never seemed to bother her before that he used drugs.

"Don't act like I'm being unreasonable. After last night-"

"What about last night? Nothing happened," he said curtly even as his doubts from earlier returned. Because he could pretend all he wanted that what had transpired was a one off thing but he couldn't control Chloe's interpretation of events.

Her gaze was cold as ice and twice as sharp. "I understand that you don't want to talk about it and I respect that but don't you dare act like it never happened. I deserve better. You deserve better."

He snorted, scooting forwards until his feet were planned on the asphalt. Standing carefully, he opened the passenger door.

"We can leave now," he said.

Chloe glared at him, the first real spark of anger she'd ever directed at him. Beneath that was something else. Disappointment?

Whatever it was, it clogged the air in the car. The rest of the ride passed in a near constant state of tension so thick, it rendered both of them mute. They entered Los Angeles and still not a word had been shared, the car tracing its familiar path towards Sunset Boulevard.

Chloe pulled to a stop alongside Lux, ignoring his protests about his car still at the precinct.

"You can get it later. You're in no state to drive," she said firmly, tone too akin to an order for his liking.

Tired and stressed by the dumpster fire his life was threatening to dissolve into, Lucifer answered with only a curt goodbye and climbed out. He was just about to shut the car door when Chloe stopped him.

"When you lay down again, lay on your side and put a pillow between your knees. It'll help."

He turned to look at her but she was staring straight ahead, white knuckling the steering wheel.

"Thank you. I'll try that."

She hummed and suddenly Lucifer desperately did not want them to part ways like this, hardly speaking to one another.

"I snort coke and smoke marijuana but that's just about it," he said quietly.

And finally, she looked at him, brow raised. "What?"

He leaned down to see her, wincing. "You asked earlier about what drugs I used. That's it. I mean, sometimes pills work their way into the party but they're not really my thing."

She nodded, absorbing that information slowly. "Okay," she said at last.

"Okay?" he repeated, cocking his head.

"Yes. Thank you for answering."

Though she was acting like it wasn't a big deal, Lucifer knew better. There had been some test in that question and he had the distinct feeling he'd very nearly failed it too.

"Well, so long then. Safe travels and all that." He tapped the roof of the car uncertainly and closed the door.

She waved and pulled out, rejoining traffic. For a time, he watched, until her bumper was lost to the haze of the afternoon heat.

As he turned away, he caught a whiff of something. Head jerking up, he inhaled deeply.

It couldn't be…

But there was no denying it. Faint as it was, the scent of divinity hovered in the air. He scanned the sidewalk, expecting to see Amenadiel or another of his siblings. Perhaps Dad was stepping up the 'Return Evil Lucifer to Hell' campaign.

He couldn't pick out a face he recognized in the crowd of people going about their day, except for that blonde woman he might've slept with. Oh and that man jogging past with those sculpted calves? He'd definitely slept with him.

"Knock it off or Maze will think you've lost your nerve," he hissed to himself with a violent shake of his head.

Retreating into Lux, he was greeted with a flurry of activity in the main club area. For the first time in two weeks, bartenders were polishing glasses and setting up stools.

"Patrick," he called, descending the stairs.

A young man with a ponytail looked up. "Hey boss. Maze told us the good news."

"And what news was that?" he asked, settling on one of the new stools.

Patrick dutifully poured him a scotch. "That we're reopening tonight. She called us last night and set everything up."

"Interesting she decided to not inform me," he took a drink, savoring the taste of top shelf liquor.

"I think it was meant to be a surprise," Patrick shrugged. Out of all the bartenders, he had been working at Lux for the longest and as such, had an intimate understanding of Lucifer and Maze's baffling relationship. "We're going to be packed tonight."

"Speaking of, do you happen to know where our dear Ms. Smith has gotten off to?" He held out his glass and Patrick refilled it.

"She left a note." He gestured to the far end of the bar.

Lucifer followed the motion, catching sight of a piece of paper pinned by a knife to the bar top. The new bar top. His eye twitched. He'd just gotten the counter replaced and already it was nicked?

Pulling out the knife, he flinched at the whine of the wood, and picked up the note. In her typical sloppy writing, Maze explained she was off following a scent somewhere and he shouldn't wait up. It also asked a few lewd questions about his night with the Detective.

Crumpling the paper, he told Patrick he would be upstairs and to not disturb him unless something important happened. The bartender seemed surprised, which Lucifer supposed, was only natural. It was rare he ever missed a chance to party.

"Oh and Patrick? My Corvette's still at the precinct. Here," he tossed over his car keys. "I'll reimburse you for the Uber ride there."

Business settled, he took the elevator upstairs, kicking off his shoes the moment the doors opened. His jacket and shirt went next, both thrown onto the couch as he made for his own bed. Yanking off his belt with a flourish, he collapsed into the pile of expensive blankets and sheets, groaning in relief at the touch of cool fabric.

A rush of exhaustion hit him as he rolled onto his side, wiggling until his head found a pillow. He wasn't usually one for naps but right now, he felt he could sleep for an eternity.

Remembering Chloe's advice, he fumbled around for another pillow, slotting it between his bent knees. The position was a bit odd but he'd done far weirder things in the last twenty four hours.

He should really stay awake and wait for Maze. It was the responsible thing to do.

Fortunately, he was the most irresponsible being in the universe. Maze had left a note which meant she was confident she knew what she was doing. He had faith in his little demon. She'd probably wake him up later, covered in blood and brain matter and quivering with excitement.

He yawned loudly, pressing deeper into the mattress. He'd just sleep for a few hours and then when he woke up, everything would be fine. His wings issue would be resolved and… and…

"Boss?"

Lucifer jerked awake at the voice. It felt like he'd hardly closed his eyes but the penthouse was darker, evening giving way to night. How long had he been asleep?

Rubbing at his eyes, he didn't bother rolling over to see which employee was bothering him. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry to wake you but a guest downstairs is asking for you."

It figured. The one night he wanted to himself and he couldn't have it. Closing his eyes again, he sighed, "I'm not entertaining anyone tonight."

"I told him that but he was very… intense about seeing you. He said he should have special clearance? I don't know what that means. We don't have clearance levels here."

"Fine, send him up. And you better impress on him the severity of the situation. I don't like being interrupted."

The employee retreated and Lucifer tried to catch just a few more minutes of rest. All too soon though, the elevator was pinging again. He heard the doors slide open, heavy footsteps falling on the tiled floor.

"Well? Who is it?" he called, still not willing to roll over. Maybe if he was lucky, the mystery intruder would just give up once he realized he wasn't going to get the best night of his life or whatever it was he was looking for.

"Hey dude, I'm sorry to just barge in like this but I had - SHIT!"

The explosive expletive had Lucifer scrambling to his feet as he looked around wildly, expecting to see fire breathing monkeys or something similarly nefarious. Instead, all he saw was Dan, white as a sheet and mouth agape.

"Daniel, are you always this rude?" he asked, trying to calm his heart, which felt in danger of beating right out of his chest.

"I - I - didn't realize they were that bad." Dan ran a shaky hand through his hair.

Lucifer frowned. What were that bad? He looked down at himself, the contours of his chest and stomach, muscles easily defined. Usually horror was not the reaction people had to seeing him shirtless. Maybe he'd broken the detective with his animal magnetism. Dan was just about as close as one could get to sexually repressed. He had bobble heads on his desk for Dad's sake!

Dan stepped closer. "I knew they were… but I didn't realize."

"Oh," Lucifer blinked. "You're talking about the scars."

Dan was still edging closer, trying to get a look at his back, and Lucifer shied away. The last time someone had been that concerned had been Chloe and he didn't want a repeat of that moment.

"What happened?" Dan seemed to realize the effect he was having and stopped crowding him but his eyes were still large as saucers, face oddly boyish with wonder.

"Maze cut off my wings," he said blandly, picking up his robe from where it was hung over a chair and shrugging it on.

He rarely felt self conscious about the state of his back. The scars were his personal badge of honor, proof he was liberated from Heaven. Most people, however, didn't stare like Dan was doing now, with this horrified intensity. Usually, people were a bit more interested in other parts of him.

"Wings? Like, angel wings?" Dan asked.

Lucifer sidestepped the shorter man, heading for the bar. "Not that I entirely mind you being here but did you have a specific reason for showing up? I'm not interested in entertaining tonight."

Now Dan was the one who looked uncomfortable. He kept his distance, hovering near the piano.

"I'm not really sure why I'm here," he confessed.

Well didn't that clear everything right up?

His eyes narrowed at a sudden thought. "Did the Detective send you here to check up on me?"

Dan shook his head. "No, it's nothing like that. It's just… I shouldn't be saying anything but you probably know anyway so what does it matter?"

"What is it I'm supposed to know?"

The boyish look had faded from Dan features, leaving behind deep set worry lines. "Chloe and I are getting divorced."

"Oh," he said after a heartbeat of pronounced silence, thoughts jumping to Chloe and how she was always so careful to say 'separated' when talking about her relationship with Dan. How she still wore her wedding ring sometimes, the tan lines never fading. How she stoutly maintained her marital status whenever someone asked her out for drinks. "How… unexpected."

Dan rolled his eyes. "Wow, don't plant all your sympathies on me at once."

"You caught me off guard." He poured himself a drink, then another for later. He had a feeling he was going to need them.

"Wait, she didn't tell you?" Dan leaned on the piano. "You guys spent eight hours stuck in a car together. What did you do, just go over the case over and over?"

No, we talked about our feelings and then she held me like a bloody toddler, he nearly said aloud. Instead, he shrugged, neither agreeing with or denying Dan's assumptions.

Dan groaned. "Great, and now I've gone and let slip to the biggest gossiper at the precinct."

"I must confess, I'm a bit surprised. The two of you really, er, hung in there." He gave a half hearted grin, not sure how to act. This divorce had been a long time coming, he'd known that for months now, but Dan seemed awfully upset about the whole thing. "But why did you come here of all places?"

"All the other guys at the precinct are married. You've always got girls hanging all over you so I thought, maybe you'd done this sort of thing? Not a divorce obviously, but a bad breakup or something. And you're Chloe's partner so I thought you'd already known the situation and…" He groaned again. "Shit man, if I told any of my buddies, they'd try to get me drunk and set me up with a prostitute."

"Do you want a prostitute?" Lucifer asked hesitantly. "They don't come around Lux because my bouncers have a habit of knocking out their pimps but I could find one for you. She'd have to be willing to sleep with you without payment, of course, or it would be a breach of free will"

"No man, I don't want a fucking prostitute!" Dan slammed his fist hard against the piano top and that just about gave Lucifer a heart attack. "You respect Chloe, yeah? Like, people are literally afraid to say anything bad about her if you're within a hundred feet of the precinct. I don't want to hear Detective Paolucci tell me that my life is going to be so much better now and that he envies me for getting divorced. And you're all kinds of screwy but you care about Chloe too."

Lucifer couldn't make head or tails of Dan's tirade and decided simply agreeing was enough. "Yes, quite right Daniel. Well put."

Dan glared but his eyes were dull. "I just want to make sure Chloe's going to be okay. I fucked up over and over and now I guess this is my punishment. But it's not fair that she has to hurt because of the things I've done." Wearily, he collapsed onto the couch. "You're her friend."

"Yes, that I am." He set a newly filled tumbler on the end table for Dan, wondering how good of a friend he could really be if he hadn't even noticed that Chloe was distressed about the divorce.

She'd seemed off a bit, especially this morning, but he'd assumed he was to blame for that with waking her so abruptly. Her patience had been noticeably thinner than usual though. If she was upset, why hadn't she told him? Granted, he knew he wasn't an ideal shoulder to cry on - tears and Armani didn't mix - but he could listen!

"And she's going to need friends. We haven't even told Trixie yet and… fuck." Dan rubbed at his eyes, shoulders hunched.

Now Lucifer had seen all sorts in Hell. Some humans, their guilt was just enough to send them downwards, spiderweb thin tendrils of doubt. They were so close to Heaven, but destined for an eternity in his brimstone playground instead because their souls weighed just an ounce too heavy.

Then there were those who were strangely free of it all. They must have felt some amount of guilt but they never apologized, never confessed to any wrongdoing. Striped of flesh with nails driven through their finger tips, they'd scream that they didn't belong in Hell. Those Hell loops were always fascinating, to see a human who's perception was so enormously skewed they didn't see themselves as the villain - remarkable.

And then, there were a select few who looked as Dan did now. Whose guilt was like salt water in their lungs, burning them from the inside as they choked and sputtered. They never begged for Heaven, as if they'd always known Hell was where they were going to end up. Regardless of what the demons did, what tortures they suffered through, the guilt only ever seemed to grow. Of all the souls in Hell, these were the ones Lucifer refused to torture himself. All that hurt, they didn't need him telling them that they deserved to burn. They already believed that with every fiber of their tattered beings.

"You're not to blame, Daniel," he said.

Dan looked up disbelievingly. "And you know all about it wouldn't you? What's the longest relationship you've ever had, a week?"

"Eighteen hours actually and it wasn't a relationship by any means. More of an extended one night stand." He took a seat in the armchair opposite, twirling his empty glass between his fingers.

"So how do you know it isn't my fault then, hm? What do you know about any of it, about that kind of love and commitment?"

"I don't pretend to be an expert on either but I have seen divorces and Daniel, you're a better man than either of my parents could ever hope to be."

Dan stilled. "Your parents are divorced?"

"In a manner of speaking. Dad quite literally banned Mum from ever coming home again but it was a divorce in all but name."

Here he was again, sharing personal stories. This night wasn't going to end with him cuddling with Dan though, he'd off himself before he ever let that happen.

"How did they… discuss it with you and your siblings?" Dan asked carefully.

"They didn't. They fought and screamed and tore our family apart. I didn't see the ugly ending but I assure you, there was no love lost between them." He cocked his head, setting down his glass. "You still love Chloe. That's why you're here, because you care about her."

"I'm the one who broke it off. How much could I possibly care?" He buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking beneath his brown jacket.

Lucifer looked away, uncomfortable with the raw display. "You care enough to let go. My parents, they hung on out of spite and self righteousness. Neither of them wanted to admit that they were capable of being wrong. It was a poison."

Dan's head jerked up, eyes bright. "Why are you being so understanding? You should be judging me! That's what you do, judge people."

All the pieces clicked into place for Lucifer. "If you're looking to be punished, I suggest you leave because I won't do it," he said flatly.

"But you punish guilty people all the time," Dan protested. "You even said that's the main reason you work with the police. It's your whole shtick!"

"Yes, Daniel. Guilty individuals. You've made mistakes, I'm sure, but not enough to warrant me and my special brand of whips and chains."

Dan sat there, lost. "Then what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

Lucifer rose, straightening his robe. "Break something?" He suggested. "Though I do ask you stay away from my piano, please." He looked around the room, spying the soccer ball he'd left on his bookshelf. "You can kick around a ball and break some of my lamps. I find that immensely satisfying."

"You'd let me just break your stuff?"

"Why not? They're merely objects. I have a cleaning service so it's no hassle on my end. You may have to formally apologize to my interior decorator though."

"I can't do that, man. But maybe… can I stay here? I don't want to go back to my crappy apartment right now."

"By all means, if that's what you desire. The top drawer in the bathroom has new toothbrushes if you wish to use one. You must promise me that you won't do anything stupid though, like get spectacularly drunk and choke on your own vomit." He walked to his closet, shedding off his robe as he pulled out a suit at random and looked for a shirt. "You can use my bed if you wish. I doubt I'll be needing it tonight."

"Wait, you're going out?" Dan called back.

"I'm afraid so. There's something I need to do." He changed quickly, only giving his appearance a cursory glance before returning to the main room. "You're more than welcome to use the telly and anything on the bookshelf is fair game except for that copy of Hamlet. I'm not the sentimental type but it is a first edition and all."

Dan watched him head towards the elevator. "But where are you going?"

His hand stilled over the call button. "There's someone I need to speak with. I should be home before dawn."

And that was how, thirty minutes later, he found himself knocking on Linda Martin's door.

He'd swung by her office, hoping it was one of her late nights, and was not disappointed to see her office windows were the only ones in the building still aglow despite it being far past eight. The building itself was locked but a mere caress of his hand had the tumblers falling into place with gentle clicks. Entering, he strode with purpose towards his destination.

Her office door wasn't closed and he hesitated in the door frame, hand half raised to knock. She wasn't looking at him, instead pouring over what looked like her notes from that day's sessions. If he left, she'd never know. He could go back home and watch movies with Dan. Maze would eventually show up and maybe they could still have that party -

"Lucifer? Is that you?"

Running - sorry, tactically retreating - was out then.

"Yes, doctor." He took a single step into the dimly lit room, hands clasped behind his back. "I apologize for the late visit."

Linda was recovering quickly from her initial shock, features settling into that serene look that was actually as carefully constructed as stained glass. She pulled something out of her desk, walking towards him.

"I'm glad you're here. I have your wallet. I was going to mail it to you but I didn't want anything to get stolen."

"Oh, you could've kept that. It was payment for your sessions." Still, he took the offering, tucking it into his jacket pocket without bothering to count the money inside.

"I don't deserve payment, not after my behavior. And I do apologize for that. I was extremely unprofessional and I shouldn't have allowed my feelings to impact how I treated you. You were my patient and I had a moral and ethical obligation to give you the best council I was capable of," she said solemnly.

"It's hardly your fault, most people can't resist me. I can't really consider it a flaw, all things considered." He smirked but he had a feeling Linda was seeing through him.

"Well, what brings you here?" she asked, instinctively gesturing for him to take a seat.

He refused, preferring to remain standing. "I'm not here to talk about myself but I find that other people in my life need aid and I am ill equipped to fulfill that need."

"These other people? What is it they need from you?" There was a hint of disapproval, but it wasn't directed at Lucifer.

"The Detective is going through a divorce."

Linda nodded, taking her usual seat, though she didn't pull out her legal pad to take notes. "And you want to help her?"

"Yes. She's helped me recently and I want to repay the favor."

"Okay. May I ask, is wanting to repay her your main motivation for helping her?"

"Not exactly." He eyed the couch for a moment before deciding to just take a seat, crossing his legs. "I just…" He closed his eyes for a moment. "She did something… special. Something no one's ever done for me before. And I don't understand it, not a bit, but I… I don't want her to hurt. She was so certain her marriage was going to work out in the end."

"So, what do you need from me then?" Linda asked.

He opened his eyes. "How do I let her know I want to help? I want her to know that I care because, I do. I… think I get it now. How you can hurt on the behalf of another. It's not about physically feeling their pain is it? It's wanting to… protect them from it in the first place."

He had only just begun to understand the concept when Dan had spoken so lowly of himself at the penthouse. Then, Lucifer had wanted to free him of his guilt.

"So you empathize with Detective Decker?" Linda asked.

"I think so. I don't know what she's going through exactly but I know this matters to her a great deal and I can understand that much. We're friends."

"Well Lucifer, you know the detective better than I. What do you think would show her you care?"

"I was considering buying her a new car but I don't think she'd like that very much," he confessed.

Linda's eye twitched. "No, I wouldn't recommend going that route."

"But, what do I do then? She takes grand gestures the wrong way and I don't want her to think I'm being performative."

"There must be something you've done for her in the past that really resonated with her."

Was there? He thought back through their partnership. He'd taken a few bullets for her but putting their lives in danger was probably not the way to go. Maybe he could solve their current case for her? He could track down the culprit and have them arrested.

Something in him implored that he dig deeper. There was something there.

The coffee.

When he brought her the coffee.

"She likes that I get her coffee order right because I'm the only one who does that," he offered.

"So, she likes things that demonstrate a personal connection. You've worked together for a good four months now so you must know a few things she likes."

Well, that was no good. He didn't know those sorts of things.

Wait, he knew her favorite place to eat! And he knew her favorite movies because they'd discussed it during one of their early stakeouts. He knew she liked cheap wine better than the expensive stuff. He knew she liked sunrises more than sunsets and quiet evenings in over partying and that her favorite color wasn't actually blue but periwinkle.

"Lucifer?" Linda prompted.

"Thank you doctor, I understand now." He rose, dusting himself off.

Linda looked doubtful. "Are you positive? Because it would be unwise to… upset her when she's going through something so personal."

"No really, I do understand. My apologies but I need to go or else I'll be too late. Have a good evening."

"Lucifer, wait!" She called, bringing him up short. "You came here to see me so am I correct in assuming you no longer utilize a therapist?"

"Not at the moment, no." He half turned to face her, tapping his thigh impatiently.

"Do you still want one? I can put together a list of colleagues I think you might click with."

He frowned. "You're not going to try and convince me to return to you?"

She shook her head. "Of course not! I broke your trust. I would hate to be the reason you stopped going to therapy though. Not everyone is receptive to seeking help and you made progress during our brief time together, I think. It would be a shame if all that went to waste."

"I made progress?"

"Lucifer, four months ago you wouldn't have cared that Detective Decker was getting a divorce. You probably would have seen it as an opportunity to sleep with her. But tell me, have you even once since finding out considered you now have a chance at intimate relations?"

No, that thought hadn't even crossed his mind. He had been more concerned with how Chloe must be feeling.

His silence was answer enough for Linda. "For you, I consider that a huge step forward. You first came to me because you wanted help figuring out your emotions. Deciding to be a friend to Chloe, wanting to make her feel better, you did that all on your own. Yes, you still needed help with the last part but you recognized that fact and took the initiative." She rose, walking to her desk and tearing a piece of paper in half. "Now, I know a few therapists who are well versed in religion. Maybe that would be a better fit for you?"

"I don't need any recommendations," he said and her face fell. "Actually, if it's all the same, I'd like to start seeing you again."

Her brow furrowed. "Are you sure? I crossed a big line."

"I am. And I'll pay you properly this time. No more sex or favors."

"Okay. Your old time slot is available if that still works for you." She didn't ask any questions, though they were definitely brewing behind her glasses. "And if at any point you feel uncomfortable, we'll find you a different therapist."

Decision made, Lucifer bid her farewell and returned to his car. He had a few errands to run before going to see Chloe. By the time he pulled up outside the beach cottage, it was rather late.

His feet crunched on the gravel driveway as he moved his shopping bags to one hand, freeing the other to ring the front bell. He could hear the ocean, much louder now that night had fully descended. Each crash spoke of an ancient power, a coiling monster capable of wiping out entire countries.

The porch light flicked on right before the door was opened to reveal a rather rumpled looking Chloe dressed in a mismatched set of pajamas.

"Lucifer? It's almost eleven. What are you doing here so late?"

He had gone full charming smile but upon seeing her red rimmed eyes and mussed hair, he lost the mask. "I'm sorry to disturb you but Daniel came to Lux earlier and we had an enlightening discussion."

"He told you about the divorce," she said flatly, arms crossed.

"He thought you'd already told me. By the time he realized his error, it was too late." He tried for a soothing tone but he wasn't sure he was achieving it. The inflictions were all wrong.

"Listen, I'm sorry, but I don't really want to deal with anyone right now, okay?" She said wearily.

"Dan and I had a talk after dinner about some things and I just need to sort out my head for a bit on my own. I'm sorry he bothered you with this, he shouldn't have dragged you into our problems."

"He didn't bother me. We had an impromptu heart to heart but it wasn't torturous." He shifted from foot to foot. "And then, well, I wanted to check on you."

"Thank you, but I'm fine," she said.

"By who's definition, yours or mine?" He challenged. "You said earlier that you wanted to know if I got anything worse than a papercut. But that's a two way street isn't it? And I may not be the best versed in this sort of thing but I reckon a broken heart is worse than burning your finger or getting a razor nick."

"My heart isn't broken," she snapped.

He ducked his head. "Yes it is."

"And how would you know?"

"Because I know you, Detective," he said simply. "I may not always get the small things, which are tremendously boring by the way, but I know you're hurt. I know I can't fix that but I can do the female post break up routine. We can braid each other's hair and watch sappy movies."

Her eyes softened. "Post breakup routine? What kind of movies are you watching, Lucifer?" Still, she stepped back, letting him enter the apartment.

He did so, kicking off his shoes and depositing his load on her kitchen counter. Chloe came up beside him, taking inventory of the different logos on each of the bags.

"You went to that burger place by the pier?" she asked, opening the bag in question.

"It's your favorite, isn't it?" He was unsure now. Maybe it had been just her favorite burger place and not actually her favorite place in the entire city to eat or-

"Yeah, it is. But how do you know that?"

He began to unpack the food. "You told me, remember? We were discussing where to go to lunch during the case with the dung beetle and you said your father used to take you there to eat on the weekends when his shift ended early."

"That was months ago. How did you remember that?"

Had he done something wrong? She was looking at him funny.

"Because you were so happy when you talked about it," he said, almost shyly.

That was one of the most remarkable things about Chloe. She could literally glow when she was excited, a flame lit somewhere beneath her skin. When she was sad, the opposite occurred and she would darken to a muted grey. Every emotion was so vivid that it was almost impossible to not get sucked in sometimes.

He'd never felt like that around anyone else before.

"What else did you get?" Her voice was noticeably thicker as she opened the next bag, pulling out a collection of movies. "Love Actually, Sleepless In Seattle, Working Girl… did you raid the entire romantic comedy section?"

"Admittedly, I didn't know precisely what to look for but one of the cashiers was more than helpful in picking out a few titles for me. Rom coms are the essential breakup movie genre, yes?"

"I guess so. I haven't watched many, oh! You got the Breakfast Club! Have you seen it?" She held up the dvd for him to inspect.

"I haven't actually." He'd tried to watch it once but the school setting had put him off. At least Hot Tub High School had shown a little skin!

The last bag was the smallest and Chloe dug in, pulling out the only box inside. "You bought me a new phone?"

"Not quite, I actually bought that cell phone for myself. You're constantly complaining about how you can't get in contact with me and this way you can call me anytime!"

Out of all his purchases, this was the one he had been most hesitant about. For whatever reason, buying the phone had felt like he was giving Chloe something personal. And in a way he was. Outside of a few dozen individuals, no one knew the number for his landline at Lux. People would have to either call the club or wait around until he showed up to get in touch with him. It was the perfect system really.

It bothered him a bit to know that, without Dan coming clean, he never would've known about the divorce until tomorrow. He wasn't exactly sure why - he usually liked personal distance - but he disliked the idea of Chloe having to spend the night alone after such a momentous shift in her life.

"That's… thank you," she said, almost puzzled. "But I know your landline number now, remember?"

"Yes but this way, we can do the texting thing. I don't spend an enormous amount of time in my penthouse," he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Now you can reach me whenever you want, for any reason, no matter how small"

She frowned at his words, brow pinching. "What are you getting at?"

"What do you mean?" He reached for one of the paper wrapped burgers.

"You're angling. There's more to you buying the phone isn't there?" Her face cleared. "Is this because I didn't tell you about the divorce?"

He continued unwrapping the burgers. "Not exactly. I'm just making myself available for future crises."

She placed a hand over his, stopping his movements. "Hey, cut that out. Just tell me the truth. Does it bother you?"

He gently extracted his hand from her own. "I was just surprised I heard it from Daniel first. And he kept going on about how much you were going to need a friend. He really did think you'd told me already, that was one of the reasons he came over in the first place." He wasn't going to mention the punishment thing. That wouldn't go over well with her.

"Okay, you know what? You like making deals right? How about I tell you why I didn't bring it up if you tell me why it upset you. One sentence, that's all I'm asking for."

He turned the proposition over in his head before agreeing. One sentence, he could do that.

"Fine, Detective. You first."

"Alright. I didn't tell you because Dan sorta sprung the idea on me yesterday and it took me the whole day to come to terms with everything. I wanted to discuss things with him first before letting other people know. That doesn't mean I didn't trust you or that I was purposefully hiding anything from you. Then earlier today with your back pain, I didn't want to add my problems onto yours." She visibility gathered herself. "Okay, now you go."

Right. Good. One sentence. No big deal. Easy peasy. Yup.

"Well Detective…"

Good start. Now for the rest.

…

Okay, why weren't the words coming out?

He looked helplessly to Chloe, whose face was crestfallen.

"You know what? Never mind. I'm sorry. I know sharing isn't your thing. Actually, it's getting late. Maybe you should lea-"

"You're hurt!" he blurted out.

Chloe raised a brow. "Um… yes, yes I am."

"Yes!" He said emphatically, pointing at her. "And because you were hurt, so was I. I was empathizing!"

Why was Chloe looking so scared? She'd actually backed away a step.

"Do you usually empathize so forcefully?" Her eyes were slightly crossed as she tried to focus on the finger he was still pointing at her.

He dropped his hand. "Dr. Martin and I had a discussion about hurting on the behalf of others. Of course, I thought the whole idea was preposterous. Second hand pain? A ridiculous notion. But when Daniel was talking about how much he hated himself, all I could think about was you and how you must be feeling!"

"Dan said he hates himself?"

He groaned as she focused on such an insignificant detail. "Yes he did but I set him straight so there's no reason to worry."

"So all this, the movies and the food. It's because you were upset that I was upset?"

He nodded eagerly. "And I didn't want you to hurt but I wasn't sure how I could fix it so I did the next best thing."

"You wanted to fix my broken heart?"

Huzzah! They were on the same page! That wasn't too difficult. Honestly, he thought he'd done pretty good explaining himself. Exemplary even.

"You know something?" Chloe lips quivered alarmingly and his celebratory mode vanished. "You're a huge idiot."

Uh oh. Were those tears? What had he done? Oh Dad, no, no he hadn't wanted to ruin this!

"Detective, my apologies," he said softly.

"Shut up," she sniffled. "You're not just a huge idiot, you're my huge idiot. And I want a hug."

A hug? He could oblige, just this once. Still baffled, he opened his arm, jerking back slightly as Chloe cannoned into him, wrapping her arms around him fiercely. Their height difference was even more obvious now, the top of her head just brushing his chin.

He raised an arm, uncertain where to place it. The urchin was so small, he usually just put his hand on her head but he couldn't do that with Chloe.

The only other option left to him really was to simply return the hug.

Wrapping his arms around her carefully, he looked down to where Chloe had her face pressed into his shirt.

This wasn't so bad, it could be worse. Actually, he almost liked this. The holding was… nice. Weird. Grabby. But nice all the same.

He loosened his grip experimentally and Chloe leaned back, understanding he'd had his fill. Separating, they went through a ritual of straightening unwrinkled clothes and dusting off non existent dirt.

"Lucifer," Chloe was first to break the silence. "Thank you. For everything. You have no idea how much this means to me."

He had a faint understanding, sort of like what had happened last night. The cosmic scale had re-balanced itself somehow.

"I never thanked you for yesterday," he said, whisper quiet.

She looked up from where she'd gone for one of the half unwrapped burgers. "You don't have to. It was weird for you and that's fine."

"No, it wasn't weird. It was," he leaned back against the counter, head tipped up in silent prayer as he closed his eyes, "remarkable."

"Lucifer…" she began.

He'd had enough of sharing these past few days. Straightening, he smiled. "So I'm your huge idiot, huh? I didn't know you were into BDSM. Should I call you Mistress?"

"You're gross," she wrinkled her nose. "And just for that, I'm not sharing my burgers." But she was smiling as she said it, a genuine look of joy.

He hoped to Dad that smile would never fade.