Work Text:
Five minutes after the young actor climbed out of the hot tub featured in an otherwise forgettable straight-to-video VCR movie of more or less the same name, she swore she would never again find herself in a similar situation.
First, the damn water was cold! She knew why… it made her nipples stand out. Pretty shitty ‘special effect’, and fer sure none of the guys in the tub with her appreciated what it did to their equipment, but the director stood firm. So Chloe Decker gritted her teeth and shivered through five takes until the rest of the crew took pity on her and overrode that chauvenist pig’s determination to get just one more shot of her breasts.
Yet here she stood, half-naked and staring at a man she was no longer attracted to in that way and wondering how the hell it had happened again.
Marcus wasn’t a bad man (which might have helped boost her level of desire, truth be told). But he was… well, not doing it for her. He was bulky. Chunky. A pale body that could easily go to fat and hinted of far too many hours preening in front of a mirror at the gym. A soft round face that tended toward bland. The man was passionless. Trying so damn hard to please her and failing pitifully.
She was sorry. Sorry she’d led him on.
...did I? he’s here, with his clothes folded neatly on the couch. I must have led him on...
And he was looking at her with a hopeful expression she was all to familiar with.
...am I gonna get lucky tonight? am I? am I? ooh, please, honey sweetie I love you soooo much…
Whatever remained of Chloe Decker’s lust dissolved into a tepid pool of goo, and she began mentally rehearsing the I really like you but I’m just not ready lines every woman knows and most clueless men can’t believe they’re hearing.
…I know you don’t mean it baby girlfriend darling lover…
Or they get angry.
...you led me on! cocktease! bitch! cunt!
Marcus wasn’t the kind of man to… hit her. She was sure he didn’t get rough with women. Sure of it. He was a police lieutenant and she was a police detective. He was her supervisor. They were adults, for godsake! He wasn’t Harvey Weinstein! And if he was, she could defend herself…
… why did I take my damn clothes off? could have left my top on… at least my bra... what have I done?
He was still looking at her with that sweet, bland, hopeful expression.
...lucifer… lucifer, where are you? i need you here… i need…
But Lucifer didn’t need her, or he would have said something when she made it clear...
...right in front of him, in your face, morningstar, this is for what you did to me with Candy…
She could have been attracted to Marcus. If she hadn’t known Lucifer first. She’d given her partner several chances to take the next step. But in true form, Lucifer turned and ran. Mr. I Can’t Commit. Can’t commit to a woman in her 30s with a child, a cop, not a hot chick, not a Brittany. He liked his Brittanies. He didn’t like his Chloe. Not that way.
...lucifer…
“Thinking of something?” Marcus’ mouth twitched at the corner, and Chloe was sure he’d read her mind. The “alert” all men possessed to let their partners know they were interested had decided to stand down. The lieutenant didn’t look angry or even disappointed.
“I… Marcus, it’s just...”
“Unnecessary, Decker.” Marcus pulled his pants on and tugged his shirt over his head. “This is a bad time for both of us. I’ll see you at work.”
Chloe fought the urge to cover her breasts with both hands. “Look, it’s not the best situation for me right now. I have things going on, and...”
Marcus Pierce fixed her with a hard stare. “Do you think Morningstar gives a shit about anyone but himself? You, maybe? He’s surrounded by beautiful women every night; why would he want a middle-aged cop with a kid and enough baggage to sink the Queen Mary?”
He headed for the door. “Enjoy your evening alone. And get used to it. The man you want will never be yours.”
The door slammed and Chloe listened to the sound of his boots striding down the sidewalk toward the parking lot. She was trembling.
… that went well, no hearts broken, still have my job, wounded male pride, he’ll get over it…
Crying…? Why was she crying? This was preferable to sleeping with him; she still had her pride, they could pretend nothing happened because nothing did happen. She pulled her jeans and sweater on and wrapped her arms over her breasts, tucking her fingers into her armpits.
… hands shaking… why are my damn hands shaking?
She and Marcus could have worked it out. They could have made a relationship, been a couple. She wouldn’t have to be alone any longer.
...alone… i’ll be alone... lucifer. he had his chance… wants a brittany, not a middle-aged mother with a ‘spawn’… can’t be what he wants… don’t want to be alone…
Her phone rested on the end table. She could call him, he’d come over… if she didn’t mind watching him turn and run at the first sign of her wanting… needing something more than a “working partnership.”
Chloe Decker poured herself a drink, added a second… a third shot of rum and proceeded to drink like she was in high school.
Lucifer.
...another shot… here’s to you, you british twit… not good enough for you, am i?
Not Marcus Pierce.
...another shot… i tried, i really did… thought we could be good together because he was willing to commit but... not marcus never marcus...
...one las… for th’ road… luc’fer…
She tried to turn on her sound system but the buttons were dancing away from her fingers, which refused to respond as proper fingers should.
...fine. radio app, then… where’s muh phone…
The app refused to remain still, just like the damn tuner and… Chloe stumbled over the coffee table and landed – hard – on her butt. She began to cry.
...too old drink like thish… fuck it!
Fumbling with the phone. Squinted one eye shut. Stabbing buttons and eventually finding a station. Rod Stewart an’ his golden oldies, why not, wha’ the hell…
Like everybody else, I like a night on the town
I love a bellavino when the sun goes down
But unfortunately, one thing leads to another (yes it does)
God, but she loved that song. Chloe threw back her head and sang along.
...I'm glad I did what I did when I did it
Make no mistake about that
And I'm glad I said what I said when I said it, Oh yeah.
If she had Lucifer on the phone right now… I’d hear his delicious British voice… saying ‘Chloe? Did you want something?’ And she’d tell him exactly what she wanted! She’d say “Luc’fer, goddammit, I love you and I wan’ you and nobody else, and you’ll be the death of me but I don’ wanna be alone when you could be here with me, and…”
And why was she hearing Rod Stewart coming from the other side of her front door?
...chloe, m’ dear, you are too shitface drunk, girlfrien’!!
‘Lu.. Lucif...Luc’fer, you’d better love me back and I’ll kick th’ shit outta any Brittany who gess near you ‘cause you’re mine even if I haffabe fallin’ down drunk ta tell ya you’ll only hur’ me and leave me sadder’n I am ri’ now.’
...It was the drink that made me do it
I know sometimes I blew it
It was the drink that made me do it
Every time, Every time!
Why was Rod Stewart singing from the sidewalk outside her apartment? Because she could hear it clear as anything. And she might have been drunk but she wasn’t that drunk ...yeah, I am... and Rod Stewart is outsi’ my damn door!
And Chloe Jane Decker, dangerously inebriated and barely able to navigate her own living room, stumbled to the door, flung it wide and stood there with her mouth hanging open and looking like an idiot with her sweater on backwards because Lucifer Morningstar, hollow-eyed, unshaven and thoroughly trashed…
...we match! ish Lucifer drunk, too? an wha’s he doing at my... door…?
...was standing on the other side, haunted, looking incredibly unbelievably sad and hopeful because she must have pushed the speed dial along with the radio and their phones were played together…
...I've raised hell when hell didn't need no raising
But I'm glad I did what I did when I did it
Make no mistake about that
And I'm glad I said what I said when I said it, Oh yeah!
Chloe squinted one eye closed to make sure it was really Lucifer she was seeing and not her drunken brain wishing him into existence and he reached out to her as if he was afraid she’d push him away and Chloe Jane Decker, drunker than a country preacher on Monday morning, lost her balance and fell into the arms of the man she loved and he was crying and she was crying and she could barely make the words come together to tell him that if he ever hurt her she’d kill him because nobody would fit into her and be her life and be everyfuckinthing she needed except him… him… him…
And Lucifer Morningstar, fallen archangel, son of God and former Lord of Hell, also known as the Devil, held her so tightly she thought he might break her ribs or make her throw up all over his $7,000 bespoke suit which was already looking the worse for wear because Lucifer had been forced to duck behind the apartment dumpster where two homeless people had been living after he'd stood outside her door for hours until a furious Marcus Pierce had stomped out and ridden off on his Harley in a cloud of smoke and frustrated curses while Lucifer tried to decide what to do about the woman he loved seeing another man who she’d obviously rejected and then his phone rang and he heard Rod Stewart singing and Chloe babbling about how she loved him and he ran up the stairs and almost fell through her door when she suddenly opened it but he hadn’t knocked how did she know he was right there and neither of them…
And Chloe Jane Decker dragged the man she loved into her apartment and her feet tangled with his and the two of them fell over the coffee table and started laughing and Chloe knocked the bottle of rum onto the floor and Lucifer said the words she’d waited a lifetime to hear from him as Rod Stewart sang…
...It was the drink that made me do it
Sometimes I guess I blew it
It was the drink that made me do it...
And Lucifer said "Will you still love me in the morning and the next morning and every one after that even if I am an ass?"
And Chloe and Rod Stewart answered together…
...Every time.
Every time.