Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thing is, Trixie knows her mom doesn’t believe in it— she’s never said it, but whenever Trixie mentions anything she always frowns the same way she did when Trixie asked about Santa, after she heard her parents talking about what to get her for christmas in the kitchen one day. Whenever Trixie mentions angels and God and Heaven. She would frown, hesitate, then give Trixie a small smile and answer whatever it is that she said rather awkwardly.

But.

That never really stopped Trixie from believing in either of them.

That’s why one day, when she finds herself really really wanting something and not knowing what to do, her first thought is to pray. Except. She knows God doesn’t answer everyone, being very busy watching over the entire universe and everything, and that her request is probably not important enough. Trixie doesn’t want a miracle, she just wants a friend.

And she wants to be sure she’ll get what she asked for.

So when she kneels on the side of her bed and brings her hands together in prayer, it’s not to Him Trixie prays to.

The nice priest from the church her abuelita sometimes takes her would probably be pretty upset if he knew, but she doesn’t let that stop her. The Devil was once one of God’s angels, right? Trixie read that on wikipedia once. So it can’t be wrong to pray to him— he’s probably not as busy as God, and she knows he makes deals.

And deals are sure things, just like promises.

So she prays, confident in her decision, and waits for the Devil to come.

…

Surprisingly enough, given the number of Satanists on Earth, Lucifer doesn’t get many prayers, if any at all.

Oh, but he’s sure many pray to the Devil— asking for horrible, horrible things and an excuse for their own sins. But never to him, and never from a true believer, instead to whatever warped and vilified version they call by his name from the worse humanity has to offer. In truth, he’s glad for it— to not have to listen to all those awful things— since he can hardly escape them once those people inevitably end up in Hell where they belong, ready to blame him for their rotten choices and souls.

So that’s why it’s a surprise when one day, while he’s sitting in his throne of ashes thinking about his most recent plans of jailbreak and watching as his dear Maze plays with her many knives (and isn’t that always such a sight?), Lucifer feels the unfamiliar pull inside his very being as he hears someone whisper right by his ear.

It’s almost— almost— enough of a shock to make him drop his whiskey.

“Hello Mister Devil, my name is Trixie and I want to make a deal with you,” the voice says, sounding confident and young and oh so terribly innocent. “I know you make deals because the internet said so, though it also said a lot of mean things about you. I don’t believe it though! I’m sure you’re nice. They’re just being bullies, like when that girl made a fake snapchat account just to tease me. It was all dumb lies.”

From the corner of his eye Lucifer can see Mazikeen stop and stare at him, confused and alert, unaware of what’s wrong but ready to take on any threats that may come their way. Lucifer waves her off, though he can barely hide how his hands are shaking.

The voice doesn’t stop.

“And anyway, deals are like promises, right? And everyone knows you can’t break a promise! Like when my daddy was late to pick me up from school and I promised I wouldn’t tell mom if only he got me chocolate pudding for a whole month. Though he made me promise on just two weeks. That was boring, and mom got suspicious anyway— she’s a cop, so she's really smart. But she still doesn’t know, I kept my word!”

Lucifer can’t help but approve of her methods, the clever little minx— though he frowns when he realizes he’s feeling proud of a child he doesn't even know. Father forbid, a child! He doesn’t even like children, the few he’s ever met so creepy it scarred him for life.

What’s happening to him? Is he going soft?

“Please, please, I promise I will be good! I can give you half of my puddings if you want, they’re the best! Second only to chocolate cake.”

He shouldn’t.

There’s no good reason for him to, really. So the child prayed to him. What? Lucifer doesn’t bargain with children— what would they even be able to do for him?— and he can’t just go whenever someone calls him like a dog on a leash, regardless if it’s the first time it actually happens. The thought alone is insulting! He’s not a party trick or a toy, nor charity for that matter.

Lucifer may give his favours to many, but never freely, and never without thought.

It’s mostly to rough talent that could shine and change the world if only given a small push, to people who crave to be and do better but were dealt a bad hand in life, the occasional sob-story who wants a second chance. Or revenge. Or both.

So maybe the right question is what, pray and tell, the child wants from him.

Certainly not a toy or a puppy, or whatever it is that children like— Lucifer would never stoop so low, and surely someone taught their offspring better than that. He won’t give to her whatever it is, of course, but it does make him curious… she seems a little young for revenge, but you can never start too early. Money? Maybe. Or maybe to save someone else’s life, perhaps her mother… Lucifer’s seen his fair share of those.

In truth, he’d presumed he’s seen it all; novelty is rather rare in the life of a Celestial.

Whose first thought at such an young age is to pray for the Devil and not, say, his Father or any of his boring goody-two-shoes siblings? Sure, their usual prayer response policy is radio silence but Lucifer is aware of what humanity thinks of him. What centuries of defamation and misrepresentation and bold-faced lies did to his image. Children were told to fear him, not… not…

Is the child being abused?

Lucifer has to remind himself to calm down as he ends up breaking his glass of whiskey in a wave of anger at the sudden thought. It’d make sense then, for the child to seek him for the punishment of the evildoers. It fits. He hates just the thought of it, but it does.

Oh, but Lucifer will make sure whoever it is gets exactly what they deserve—!

If he were to answer, of course, which he won’t.

If anything because Mazikeen surely would never let him forget, and she already has too much on him. And really, Lucifer would gain nothing from it. He’s not one of his many siblings, when they still would answer to the human’s many pleas. He doesn’t serve humanity. And he loathes children! At worst, they’re nefarious little psychopaths and at best still sticky and loud and so full of germs.

So he won’t, and that’s final.

But.

But…

The child is an innocent, and she prayed to him. To Lucifer. Not a warped version of himself long lost in translation, not the villain of the story nor the Serpent and Slanderer. But him, Lucifer— the real Lucifer— with just enough faith to actually reach him.

If she’s in danger, if her prayer is a call of help… It’d be rather impolite, would it not, to not answer? Just the thought of it alone makes a quite unpleasant feeling weight down inside his chest that Lucifer refuses to give name to. A child that prayer to him, a true believer, who thinks he must be nice and believes centuries of slander to be just that, slander. Who compared it to bullying, and isn’t that just grand.

A child willing to trade with him her beloved chocolate pudding that she got fairly by blackmailing her family.

In the end it’s not such a hard choice to make.

Lucifer looks at where Maze is still staring at him, confused. He gives her a grin and watches as she raises one scarred eyebrow in question, knowing the look far too well to know trouble always follows it.

“What?” she asks rudely— always impatient, his Mazikeen.

“I believe, my dear Maze, that I’ve just been invited somewhere else.”

Chapter Text

Lucifer shows up the next day— because he wasn’t about to just pop out in a child’s bedroom in the middle of the night, thank you very much, and he still didn’t like the thought of being summoned away like a servant— and he waits, uncomfortable and impatient, at what must be the closest thing to his own personal torture room in Hell: an american public elementary school, full of little miscreants running around with their sticky hands and runny noses.

Really, doesn’t the child have a better and cleaner place to spend her days in? Like a sewer, or perhaps a nice pigpen? It’d be a vast improvement of this place, that’s for sure. Or maybe that’s why she wants a deal so badly, to be able to leave this damned place. Lucifer certainly wouldn’t blame her for it if that’s the case.

He scoffs, lighting up a cigarette to at least try and relax since he’s already here— and regretting that he didn’t think to bring some pot.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to smoke here,” a small voice calls in front of him, and even without recognizing the voice Lucifer would know who that is; the way that small and insistent pull that brought him here in the first place finally quiet down pleased is far enough to clue him in. “My mom is a police officer, she could arrest you.”

He’s almost tempted to try and make that happen, depending on how said mother looks— nice sinful thoughts fill his mind at the idea of handcuffs and even maybe some role-play. But just one look at the child reminds him that he’s here on business and not pleasure, as much as that pains him to admit, and for the first time the two can’t combine.

Lucifer looks at where the child is staring at him curiously in what was probably her attempt at scolding, doing her very best to look grown up though she’s still much smaller than him, even when standing in front of him while he’s sitting down hunched over.

Huh. She’s a lot tinier than he had imagined, though he has to admit he hasn’t the foggiest idea how old she is supposed to be.

She keeps staring at him when he doesn’t put out his cigarette, almost judgmental.

“Oh dear, what will become of me?” Lucifer asks sarcastically, bringing the cigarette to his mouth for a drag before giving the child one of his best winning smiles. “You must be Trixie, then.”

“How did you know?” she asks suspiciously.

And really, what parents teach their offspring about stranger danger but forget to warn them about going around making deals with the Devil? Talk about a lack of priorities here, clearly setting off terrible examples for the child. He takes another drag.

“I have my ways.”

Which isn’t really an answer and he knows it, but the child just shrugs.

“My name is Beatrice, actually,” she tells him, “but everyone just calls me Trixie.”

Lucifer lets out an almost relieved breath. “Oh, that’s better, then.”

She frowns.

“Why?”

“Trixie is a hooker’s name. I’d been wondering what kind of mother would name you that,” he answers truthfully what had been on his mind for a while now, though that seems to only deepen her confusion.

“What’s a hooker?”

Ah.

He smiles mischievously. “Ask your parents.”

The child eyes him up and down, hesitating. “My mom says I’m not supposed to talk with strangers,” she says, even though she’d been the one to approach him in the first place and pray to him. “What’s your name?”

Finally, to business then.

“Lucifer.”

That makes her gasp, though Lucifer can’t imagine why the surprise. Isn’t she expecting him? She was the one to call him here, after all. Lucifer looks at her wide eyes and surprised stance and wonders, for a second, if maybe he’d been wrong about this child.

It shouldn’t be so surprising, though the way the thought saddens him is.

That is until she leans over and whispers, in an almost conspiratory way: “Like the Devil?”

And he smiles, giving her a grin that matches the mischief in her eyes.

“Exactly,” he answers in the same tone. “I hear you want to make a deal.”

Suddenly all the suspicion and surprise seem to melt away, leaving behind a bouncing child smiling wide at him in excitement. The change almost makes Lucifer flinch, not used to that kind of reaction to his true identity— fear and screams perhaps, sometimes repulse and the occasional disbelief, but not joy. Never happiness.

Truly, what an odd child.

“Cool!” She beamed. “See, I knew you’d come! I knew it!”

He stares at her for a moment, unsure of what to do when faced with such sincerity and faith in his person, before he remembers that he still has to find out what kind of deal she wants to make and finds his footing again. Now that is something he’s more familiar with.

“So tell me child, what did you have in mind, hm?” Lucifer asked, with all the casualness in the world. “Money? Power? Perhaps revenge against the mean girl that teased you? We do have a special section of Hell reserved for bullies, you know. It’d really be my pleasure, if that’s what you desire.”

But young Beatrice just shakes her head, still smiling.

“Nah, it’s okay. I already took care of it.”

Now that catches him off guard. Lucifer raises his eyebrows, intrigued. “Did you now?”

She looks around quickly before leaning in again and nodding with no small pride, and in that moment she looks exactly like the devious little urchin that he’d imagined being capable of blackmailing her father and offering the prizes in exchange for a deal.

“She wouldn’t stop making fun of me. So… I kicked her in the no-no touch-touch square,” she says, helpfully pointing down at his crotch area when he doesn’t first understand what she means. Ouch.

Clever girl.

“Oh. Oh, I see! Well played,” Lucifer praises her, pleasantly surprised with her vindictiveness. “Well played indeed.”

The child sighs. “I got in trouble for it though, and they called my mom. But it’s okay because mommy didn’t get angry and it made the girl stop and now she won’t bully me again, and maybe nobody else too.” She gives him a shrug, looking almost shy. “But that’s not why I prayed.”

So that’s it, then.

Lucifer stares at her, a bit more sober now. He hopes, in that moment more than ever, that his theory is wrong and off by miles. That for once, in the many eons of his immortal lifetime, it’s something good instead. And though Lucifer knows better than anyone else just how deep human cruelty can go, he still hopes that there is no one hurting this child. Because if there is, if someone abused of her innocence in any way…

Not even God will be able to save them from the Devil’s wrath.

Beatrice takes his moment of silence to sit down next to him, looking up at him with her big doe eyes, and he can hear the bench crackle under his grip— his cigarette long forgotten, crushed too when it stood in his way. She takes a deep breath and he stills, waiting.

Except she doesn’t give him a name of a soon to be punished evildoer, nor an overly dramatic story about a dying mother. In fact, she doesn’t say anything anywhere near Lucifer’s experienced guesses, her answer instead making the Devil blue-screen.

“Come again?” Lucifer falters, doubting his— particularly sharp, if he says so himself— hearing for a second.

Beatrice looks at him as if she’s never seen anyone more silly, and it’s hard not to feel judged under her stare. “I want a friend.”

“You… prayed to me… to ask for a friend?”

The child nods, happy that he seems to finally get it, though he can’t understand at all.

“Well, yeah,” she says, as if that should’ve been obvious. “Deals are better than wishes anyway, the shooting stars never answer me. But I knew you would! So I prayed to you, and it worked, so!” Beatrice smiles brightly. “I want a friend. A nice one, like you.”

“But why?”

She frowns softly, confused. “Why, what?”

“You realize I can’t just poof a whole new human into existence for you— it’s not really my style and I don’t think even my Father could do that, to be honest— and I can’t force others to be your friend either, thus is Free Will. So why then? Why pray to me, of all angels?”

He tries to keep his tone casual though he can’t help but be bitter about it, unable to stop eons of resentment to slitter through the cracks of his facade.

“You do remember I’m the Devil, right?” Lucifer asks her, just to make sure. “El Diablo? Satan, Beelzebub, Old Scratch— the Prince of Darkness, King of Hell, and all of those old titles and names? The literal incarnation of evil, if you believe what some people say?”

Beatrice leans away from him, looking upset, and he thinks she finally got it. She’s realized who he is and who she’s talking to, and this is it, she’ll scream and cry because there’s a monster sitting next to her. Lucifer didn’t mean to scare her, in fact that’s the least thing he wants to do, but once he’s started he can’t seem to stop talking, wanting to rip the band-aid off already in one just go.

He looks at her, like she’s a puzzle that he can’t solve, which couldn’t be more true.

“Why did you pray to me?”

She bites her lower lip, looking at the ground for what Lucifer could swear were hours but could’ve only been seconds, before she looks up at him again, determined. “Well, are you?” she asks bluntly.

Lucifer rolls his eyes, trying his best to put up a mask of boredom. “Am I what?”

“Evil?”

He flinches. She sees it.

“No…” Lucifer admits, before cleaning his throat and trying again, hating how small and choked up he sounds. “No, I’m not.”

And the child— the brilliant, cunning child that smiled at the Devil like he was a friend with no trace of fear in her eyes— simply smiles and nods, as if she’d known that from the start, and Lucifer can feel something akin of hope bloom in his heart as he stares at her in awe.

So there’s still some novelties left in the world for him, after all.

…

Trixie knows grownups can be silly sometimes, but she thinks Lucifer might be the funniest she’s ever met— and not just because of the weird way he talked and said some words, though that’s really funny too. But really, why would she believe he’s evil when she already knows he’s an angel and he answered to her prayer?

It makes her heart hurt a bit for him, that he assumed Trixie would believe the lies too.

“I’m sorry people say so many mean things about you,” she tells him earnest, in that same gentle voice she’s heard her mom use before whenever Trixie was feeling down. “I promise I don’t believe them, Lucifer, I know you’re not bad. I don’t understand why they’d do that, they shouldn’t say those things about people they don’t know. But they were so mean, and I hate it! It’s so unfair!”

She scowls, sad for him and angry at the bullies that wouldn’t leave him alone— and wishes she could kick them all, too. It’d been awful when it happened to her, and it still is, but the things said in the internet about Lucifer were so much worse than that.

When Lucifer just keeps staring at her with that same odd look in his face, Trixie realizes that maybe it makes him sad too, so she shouldn’t focus too much on it. She knows it’s not a nice feeling, knowing there are cruel things being said about you. She decides to focus on something else then and starts talking again before he can say anything.

“I know you, and I think you’re nice, and… and you’re funny, too! And weird!” She smiles at him, hoping that’ll cheer him up. “I like you!”

Her plan works, sort of.

Lucifer gapes at her, eyes so wide it’s almost comical, though it’s only for a few seconds before it quickly goes away as his face goes blank again and he cleans his throat awkwardly, trying to hide his surprise. But the tips of his ears are a little red, and that makes Trixie giggle.

“Yes, well.” He gestures at himself. “What’s not to like?”

She raises her eyebrows at him, before giggling again at his silliness as he gives her a heavy sigh.

“I will admit…” Lucifer says, reluctant, as if she’d forced it out of him. “I find that I don’t dislike you, either. You’re not that bad… for a child. Far cleaner than your peers at least, and brighter.”

She knows he’s just teasing by the small smile he gives her, like he just told her a secret, and Trixie answers with a far more eager smile of her own and crunches her nose, as if to agree with him, because even though she knows it’s a bit mean Lucifer is not really lying about it. That makes him chuckle.

“Does that mean you’ll be my friend, then?” she asks excited, because being friends with the Devil sounds like the coolest thing ever.

Lucifer stills.

“Why would you even want a friend for?”

He sounds so genuinely confused about it, like he has no idea why she’d want a friend and pray for it, or why would she want to be his friend, that Trixie actually stops and thinks about what to answer. She had thought it’d be obvious enough, or that he wouldn’t ask her why— everyone wants friends, right? That’s normal. But…

Trixie looks down at her feet, kicking them up and down. She thinks about how her parents are separated now and she has two different houses, and even though she’s just glad they finally stopped fighting so much, it still makes her sad too deep down that they’re no longer together. She thinks about how easy it was for that girl to spread rumors about Trixie and say awful things just because she wanted to and could, and how no one stepped up to defend her but herself.

And she thinks about how she can’t say any of it to her mom and dad, even though she knows they both love her very much and never once doubted it— so she always smiles when they ask, and she always lies saying that she’s fine, because Trixie doesn’t want to bother them when she knows they’re always so tired and busy with work.

But she doesn’t have to hide it now.

“I’m lonely,” Trixie finally admits, because she thinks Lucifer might be too.

And maybe she’s right, because he seems to understand.

Lucifer hesitates a bit before nodding, and he looks sad though he tries to hide it. “And what, exactly, would this deal entail? Not that I’m considering it, you understand, I’m just curious. Surely, you must have something planned already.”

Trixie cheers up almost immediately.

“Movie nights!” she says, smiling brightly at him and holding up a finger as she starts to list her demands. “They’re essencial, trust me. Hmm, pillow forts, board games, sleepovers…” Trixie thinks about it a little, trying to come up with something Lucifer might enjoy too. “Oh, and we can visit the zoo— they have lots of cool animals there! That’ll be awesome!”

She doesn’t let Lucifer’s grimace get to her, because her plans are awesome and Trixie knows already that they’ll have a lot of fun together.

Lucifer raises an eyebrow at her. “I’m afraid we have very different ideas of what’s a fun sleepover, so that will be a pass, thank you,” is his answer, though it doesn’t sound like he’s talking about the deal as a whole. He pauses, then shudders. “At least, I hope we do.”

Trixie shrugs— that’s fine with her, honestly. As long as she still gets a friend she doesn’t care much what they do, movie nights notwithstanding. She already knew that some things, like playing with her dolls and stuff, wouldn’t be as fun for a grownup as it is for her, so she’s not upset about it. Lucifer still doesn’t look very convinced about the rest though, so she decides to use her secret weapon.

She turns her big puppy eyes on him, looking as innocent as she can.

They never failed her before.

“I’ll share all my chocolate puddings with you,” she offers. “I promise they’re really, really good.”

Lucifer stares at her, looking as if he’s not sure whether to be wary or impressed, before he sighs and points at her.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, spawn,” he says offended, gesturing at her eyes, and though Trixie tries her best not to she can’t help but laugh because she knows a victory when she sees one. “Oh bloody hell, fine. I’ll see what I can do— a friend in exchange for a few desserts, yes? Certainly can’t hurt, it’s better than some of the deals I’ve made, at least. So many odd requests. But those puddings better be worth it, you hear me?”

She nods, barely able to stop herself from bouncing in her seat. “They’re the best!”

“So you said.”

“Can I pray to you again?” Trixie asks. “Will you hear me if I do?”

Lucifer considers it for a minute, with that odd look in his face again. “Yes… I suppose you can still pray to me, if you want. Can’t see why not, though I don’t know why you’d want to. I’ve already said I will see what I can do about our deal and I don’t lie.”

Trixie smiles, not really worried about that— she trusts his word on it, after all. But it’s still nice to be assured anyway.

“But how does it work? Is it like a phone? Do you have a phone? I have one, you know. My parents gave me one last year for my birthday so I’d always be able to talk to them, and it has a lot of fun games in it. Do yours have games too?”

The flood of questions makes Lucifer falter, looking a little overwhelmed and tentative like he doesn’t know how to escape nor how to process them, and Trixie would feel bad for it if she wasn’t so curious about the answers.

Besides, she wants to be able to reach her new friend.

“Ah, not exactly, no,” he answers finally. “I can hear your prayer from anywhere, but it doesn’t go both ways and I can’t answer to it directly. You’re not one of my siblings. Fortunately, really, they’re all so terribly boring.” He pauses. “And no, I don’t actually. Not much use for them down there you see, there’s not exactly a lot of reception in Hell. Though it shouldn’t be hard to get one if I find the need for it.”

The school bell rings then, interrupting Trixie’s plans to keep questioning Lucifer— wanting to know more about his siblings and how many there are— and Lucifer almost seems relieved for a second, that is until a sea of kids start running around in front of them going to their classrooms in hurry and he makes a funny face, unhappy.

“Well then, that’s my cue. I best be going now.” He gets up, fussing with his fancy clothes even though there’s barely any wrinkles on them that Trixie can see. “Say, child… what’s the name of the mean girl you mentioned again?”

“Maggie Price, why?”

“Nothing,” he says, but there’s a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “Nothing at all.”

Trixie grins, which Lucifer answers with one of his own and a wink.

“Bye, Lucifer! It was nice meeting you.”

Lucifer fumbles with his hands for a second, like he doesn’t know whether he should pat her on the shoulder or on the head like a dog, before he goes for neither and shoves them in his pockets instead.

She giggles at his weirdness and waves goodbye.

“— Trixie?” Mrs. Wellis, one of Trixie’s nicest teachers, calls from one of the classroom doors. “Didn't you hear the bell? Lunch time is over already, honey.” She frowns a bit. “Who were you talking to?”

Trixie looks at her side again, but Lucifer is already gone. She smiles, wide and proud.

“A friend,” she answers, and says nothing more.

(Somewhere else in the building, a young girl screams and rambles about scary red eyes, and for the rest of the day the teachers struggle to understand her sudden change of behaviour and why she refuses to even look in Trixie’s direction— the snapchat account promptly deleted.)

Chapter Text

Exactly one week later they find themselves standing in front of a blue beach house— Devil and demon both, the latter still unaware as to why exactly they are there and not keeping her unhappiness at being left in the dark quiet.

Despite Maze’s incessant prying, Lucifer had managed to keep where he went and who invited him upwards to himself, as well as to how exactly they did it. Sure, she knows it was for a deal, but that wasn’t so surprising— it had been Maze’s first guess, if you could even call it that. He’s the Devil, it’s almost always about a deal with him. But that was all she’d managed to get from him.

Truth be told, Lucifer simply hadn’t felt like having to deal with yet another of the demon’s boring speeches about his reputation yet— nor her inevitable teasing— and he doesn’t, no matter what she may think, owe her any explanation for his affairs. Besides, it felt good to hold something over her head for once in what must be centuries now, even if he always knew that sooner or later Maze would find out anyway regardless of whether he told her or not. She always does. She’s not the Devil’s right-hand for nothing, after all.

Still, it had been amusing to watch his dear Maze’s frustrations grow at his silence while he tried to find a solution for Beatrice’s request.

The child, that odd little thing, had kept her word. Every night before bed she would pray to him, sometimes excitedly telling him all about her day while others only managing to wish him good night before falling asleep. But she never missed a single night, never once forgot it. Lucifer had almost choked on his whiskey that first night, not expecting to hear from her so soon as her cheerful voice told him about the consequences of his little mischief and thanked him for it before wishing him sweet dreams. Thanked him! Sweet dreams!

At one memorable night she read him an entire chapter of a Harry Potter book in prayer— a bedtime story so he could sleep, or so she had explained to him. Something her parents did for her every night and so she thought he’d like one too.

Lucifer had already read the entire series many times himself yet he couldn’t help but listen attentively to her voice as if meeting the characters for the first time, hanging to every word as Beatrice would attempt to do voices for each character, offer explanations— “Mommy says they’re british, that’s why they talk funny— like you! Are you british too?”— and very slowly got through the chapter.

It’d been perhaps the most torturous thing he ever had to listen to and he quite honestly wondered about the child’s intelligence at her slow-pace and the few stutters and mistakes here and there, as well as her overall boggling idea to read the Devil a bedtime story, while at the same time the entire thing being far more touching than it had any right to be.

And if Lucifer spent the night after that rereading his editions of the books instead of having some fun Maze, well, that was of nobody’s business but his own. He’d always been fond of the story after all, even before that poor attempt of a reading.

“Who lives here?” Maze asks him, looking around as she takes in the place they’ve landed. “Lucifer?”

Patience, dear.

“Someone who reminds me quite a bit of you, actually,” is his answer, with no real effort to hide the smugness in his voice though truth be told he’s a bit… jittery, too. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

Maze scoffs at the non-answer, then leers. “Oh, really?”

“Not like that. You’ll see.”

And that’s when Lucifer notices he’d been fixing his cufflinks yet again without even realizing it, in what he would almost call a nervous gesture were it being done by anyone else but him, and forcibly makes himself stop. The Devil doesn’t fidget, after all. He has an image to maintain. If anything his presence should make others fidget.

He ignores Maze staring at the side of his face and is saved from whatever the demon was going to say when a missile in the form of a human child runs in their direction with a loud screech before throwing herself at him. Devil and demon both freeze.

“Lucifer!”

Beatrice looks up at him with a wide smile, hugging tighter and giggling as he attempts to remove her and get away.

Lucifer unsuccessfully tries to look for help from Maze desperate but she only stares at him— shock and confusion clear in her face— before removing the hand she’d moved on reflex at the sudden attack to where one of her many knives are concealed and bursting out laughing, not helping in the least untangle the little parasite that seems perfectly content attached to his waist.

Ugh.

He knew Maze would be amused at the… situation, but really, the laughter is entirely unwarranted.

Well, alright, perhaps not entirely unwarranted. Still. It’s been going for a while now and Lucifer can swear there’s tears in her eyes. That’s just unnecessary, and obnoxious. And quite honestly a little rude.

Lucifer glares at his traitorous demon. There better not be any wrinkles in his suit, it’s an Armani for Father’s sake.

“Hello, Beatrice,” he greets her at last, perhaps a touch more fond intended.

The child finally lets him go. Lucifer sighs relieved and immediately gets to work fixing himself and getting rid of any possible imperfections.

On his clothes, of course. Not himself. It’d be impossible for him to have any.

“Hi Lucifer!”

Satisfied with the state of his suit, he ignores Maze’s mocking grin and instead turns to deal with the elderly woman that showed up at the sound of strange voices and Mazikeen’s exaggerated laughter, and is currently staring at them in suspicion. Right then, that must be the babysitter. ‘Miss Olga’. Beatrice told him about her in prayer, more than once— about how much she bores her and is unnecessary, in the child’s own words, and how she smells weird.

Lucky for them, Lucifer’s had eons of dealing with humans and the sitter, unsurprisingly, is not a very complex one. Though she did stop to check in with the child before leaving, which made Lucifer’s rather low opinion on the woman raise a little at the fact that she still thought about young Beatrice. Human selflessness is not something he’s used to seeing.

Once that was done with— far quicker and easier than he’d hoped for, as he’d been wanting to delay the inevitable a little longer— Lucifer claps his hands together and looks at where both Maze and the child had been watching him.

“I believe introductions are in order. Child, that’s Mazikeen, my oldest… friend, I guess you could say,” Lucifer says, before leaning in to assure her. “Don’t worry, she won’t bite you. Maybe. Hopefully.” Finally, he turns to the demon. “Maze, meet the child. She’s the one that asked me for a deal.”

Maze scoffs with no small amount of disdain.

“Really, Lucifer? A kid?” She looks down at Beatrice, giving her a sarcastic pout. “What did she ask for, a teddy bear? Some candy? Or maybe for the Big Bad Devil to scare off her playground bullies.”

The child, however, doesn’t seem intimidated in the least by Mazikeen looming over her. She shrugs.

“Nah. I can deal with my own revenge.”

“Young Beatrice kicked a bully in the groin,” Lucifer can’t help but pipe in, proud. “She won’t be getting any more trouble from that one, that’s for sure.”

Lucifer doesn’t tell her about how he went after the little deviant on his own after. There’s no reason to. It’d only add to Maze’s amusement and he didn’t do it for the child, he did it for himself. Lucifer despises bullies. But Maze probably knows him enough to guess anyway.

Beatrice giggles. “Maggie Price still won’t look at me!”

Maze almost looks impressed.

“What’s your name again, pipsqueak?”

“I’m Trixie, Lucifer’s friend.” She looks at Maze with open curiosity. “Are you an angel too?”

Now it’s his turn to laugh— Mazikeen, an angel! Oh but that’s just priceless. Lucifer wishes he could take a picture of Maze’s outraged face and keep it forever as leverage. Maze punches him in the arm, shutting him up and interrupting his laughter. Rude.

He’d tell her off for insubordination but quite frankly he’s aware that’s a battle lost a long time ago.

“Nah, kid,” Maze says while still glaring at him. “I’m something different.”

Beatrice frowns, not understanding their reactions.

“Mazikeen’s my right-hand in Hell, and my most loyal and trusted demon,” he explains so she won’t feel left out, and if Lucifer didn’t know any better he’d swear Maze preens at his words. “So no, quite the opposite really.”

The child gasps, now staring at Maze with awe in her eyes. “Cool!”

He could feel something that he didn’t even know was there ease up and relax at that. Lucifer hadn’t been sure… But maybe he should’ve known already. Beatrice never stops surprising him.

Maze freezes, not used to that reaction in the least. Then she gives the child a smirk far weaker than her usual one but far more sincere too, something he’d never imagined to see coming from his demon. If he wasn’t so surprised at the sight, Lucifer probably wouldn’t be able to stop an embarrassing smile of his own from escaping— proud of the brave little thing that melted Mazikeen’s defenses, which is no easy feat.

“You can call me Maze, little human.”

Beatrice practically bounces with excitement. “Will you be my friend too? That’s what I prayed for, you know.”

Right. The deal.

“Oh, thank you for reminding me, child. That’s exactly why I brought Maze here today,” Lucifer says before the other can digest what the child had said. He’d been purposefully avoiding how she’d called him here until now. “Glad to see you two are hitting it off. That means I’ve done my part of the deal and am no longer needed here.”

He doesn’t give any attention to Maze’s glower— she’s truly the only demon for the job. Lucifer can’t think of anyone better that he could trust with it, and he meant it when he said Beatrice reminded him of her. It’s a match made in… well, Hell— and pats himself on the back for another job well done. Now he only needs to get the delicious desserts he was promised and he was good to go.

That is until he notices the way the child’s face fell at his words. Oh.

“You’re not staying?”

Oh no.

Lucifer fumbles, not knowing how to deal with the way her voice wavered nor what to do in case of a crying small human. Maze shrugs when he looks at her, washing her hands of it. In the end he just awkwardly pats Beatrice on the shoulder with a weak “please don’t cry” and hopes for the best.

Ugh, there’s nothing worse than a leaking child.

“I’m not good with children,” he ends up saying, the understatement of the century. “You understand, right? There isn’t really anything you’d want to do that is my kind of thing.”

Maze snorts. “And it’s mine?”

But the child doesn’t seem to listen. Beatrice shakes her head, if anything looking even more sad and confused.

“But you’re good with me,” she says with a sniff.

“I…”

“I thought you were going to be my friend,” she continues when Lucifer fails to come up with anything to answer that. She turns her big puppy eyes on him, and there’s tears on them. “I promise it will be fun! Please, Lucifer? Please please please?”

The child wants to be his friend that badly?

Wavering, he gives in. “I will think about it,” Lucifer promises, which is the best he can do right now.

Beatrice smiles, her entire face lighting up with happiness as if that’s the best thing she’s ever heard in her life. She offers him her pinky finger.

“Pinky-promise?”

He stares at it for a second before offering his own hand back, confused at the gesture. Beatrice grabs it and then interlinks their pinky fingers together in an odd handshake. Maze huffs at the unbecoming sight of her Lord linking fingers with a child, but she’s smiling too.

“It’s a deal then! You can’t take it back!”

And before he can say anything else the child runs to the kitchen laughing, telling them to wait there. Lucifer sighs.

Maze takes that as an opportunity to have a little chat.

She whistles, impressed. “I have to admit, the kid’s good,” she says, before dropping all pretenses and saying what’s really on her mind. “Was she telling the truth, earlier? Did she pray to you?”

Lucifer hums noncommittal. “Heard that little slip, did you?”

His response doesn’t seem to amuse her, and Mazikeen stares him down. Hard. He resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Lucifer, this is serious!”

In the kitchen a few clunking noises resonate, and they both pause and turn to stare at its direction until it’s clear the child isn’t coming back yet. Maze leans closer, her voice lower but no less serious. An overreaction, really.

“Did. She. Pray. To. You.”

Lucifer considers not answering for a second, but it would only be delaying the inevitable. He nods, and Maze’s eyes widen.

“Yes,” he finally says, breaking eye contact so he won’t be as vulnerable, as raw. “She prayed to me a week ago, asking for a deal.”

Windows to the soul and all that.

Lucifer pauses before admitting: “She called me nice,” he tells her, still not fully believing it himself. Him, the Devil, nice. “She knew who I was, and she still… A child, Mazikeen. I couldn’t not answer.”

Not when he didn’t know what she wanted, when he could’ve been her only hope out of a bad situation.

Maze takes a step back, taking it all in— she may be no angel but she knows the significance of the act, and she knows what it means to him. Maybe she’ll never fully understand, not really, but she knows.

He doesn’t tell her about the other prayers after that; they’re his and he’s terribly selfish, wanting to keep them to himself as much as possible. It shouldn’t mean that much to him but it does. It does. That a child that only spoke to him once took the time to tell him about her day and wish him goodnight even though he couldn’t answer. That she cared enough to do it. That for once, someone saw him as himself without any reluctance, any fear.

That someone so innocent saw something good in him.

Lucifer gives her a smile that both feels too fake and too real all at once. “Beatrice is no common child.”

Maze nods, weakly. She understands.

As if on cue the child comes back running with her hands full and just like that the tension in the air is gone as if nothing had happened while she was gone, and Lucifer tries to not look as shaken as he feels— putting the mask back on with practiced ease. Still, Beatrice pauses a little. She looks at them, as if she could sense something’s not quite right, before shrugging it off.

She hides one of the things she’s carrying behind her back before handing him the other one, a piece of paper, looking almost shy.

“What’s this?” he asks, opening it up.

It’s… a drawing. Maybe. He’s honestly not sure. It’s rudimental and amateurish, only a step above stick-figures, and looking like it was perhaps done by someone’s blind dog. Lucifer hesitates to call it art.

“A drawing, silly! I made it for you.”

Of course.

“Ah.”

In it there’s two figures: a man with red eyes and wings holding hands with a little girl with pigtails and a pink tutu, their height difference highly exaggerated and one of his arms far too long so it could reach her, and in each of their hands only three fingers. In the corner, there’s a carefully written ‘To: Lucifer, By: Trixie’ in an eye-sore green.

“Do you like it?”

It’s awful. An offense to his eyes, really. The child clearly has no talent.

It’s the most precious gift he’s ever received.

Lucifer nods, feeling far too overwhelmed for such an atrocious ‘drawing’. He hovers his fingers over it, feeling the letters in the rough handwriting carefully.

“I do. Thank you, Beatrice.”

She smiles and points at the paper. “You have to put it in your fridge.” She pauses. “Do you have a fridge?”

Lucifer and Maze share a look, before shrugging.

“I give you my word I’ll keep your gift safe,” he promises instead, folding the paper with care before storing it in his breast pocket and giving it a light pat, though not before Maze catches a glimpse of it. She gives him a smug look, but doesn’t comment.

He narrows his eyes at the child.

Beatrice blinks at him, suddenly looking far too innocent with her big doe eyes staring up at him, but there’s mirth in them too that she simply can’t disguise. Lucifer knows the trap for what it is, and refuses to fall for it. Again.

“Don’t think I can’t see right through your game here, you little urchin,” Lucifer accuses, perhaps more impressed than offended. “I literally invented it millenias before you were even born. I said I’d think about it, and I will. No drawing will buy me. I’m not that cheap.”

She pouts at his words, but doesn’t seem too defeated.

He finds out why when she shows him the cup of pudding she’d been hiding behind her back, raising her eyebrows at him in challenge. Oh, that’s playing dirty. Lucifer is almost proud.

For a moment they don’t break the eye contact— Lucifer glaring and Beatrice looking far too amused— before he sighs and grabs the cup.

“I suppose I can stick around for today,” he says magnanimous, though he knows a defeat when he sees it.

Beatrice cheers, apparently knowing it too. Though the smile in the child’s face is almost worth the wounded pride. Almost. Mazikeen smirks proudly and gives her a fistbump, laughing at the Devil defeated by his sweet tooth.

Perhaps introducing those two had been a bad idea.

…

They have a movie night. The first of many, if Trixie has any say in it.

She’d first suggested Frozen but Lucifer refused, saying it’s a rather popular choice of torture right now and he knows enough to stay away. So instead they make popcorn together to eat while they watch Monsters, Inc and Wreck-it Ralph.

She smiles as she sits in the middle of her two new best friends and favorite people, feeling just as safe and content as she used to feel during the movie nights her mom and dad used to do, before all the fights and the divorce. There are differences though. It’s not really the same. They’re not her parents and they’ll never replace them for her, but Trixie doesn’t want them to. It’s not what this is about.

She just wants them to be her friends.

Lucifer talks through the movie, which her parents never did, but it makes her laugh whenever he does and even Maze finds some of his jokes funny too, and makes some comments of her own, though towards the end of the first one she hits him with a pillow and tells him to shut up or else.

She didn’t really need to though, because when they get to the second movie Lucifer gets quiet and watches it with thoughtful eyes.

Trixie’s still proud of the movies she picked.

She snugs closer to them, giggling when they both freeze and wiggle uncomfortable but don’t move away. It’s not the same, but it doesn’t need to be. This is good enough for her. At her side Lucifer sputters and complains when Satan shows up with the other bad guys to advice Ralph while Maze laughs and laughs, telling Trixie she should draw him with horns and hooves next— and to not forget the pitchfork!

Yeah, this is enough.

Chapter Text

Chloe is a good mother.

Or at least, she tries her best to be. And that’s what matters in the end, right? Being there for her daughter, doing the right thing for her and loving her more than anything in the world— in the whole universe, really. The same laser focus and determination she puts on solving the cases given to her as a homicide detective she makes sure to put on being a good mother for Trixie too, all so she’ll never do the same mistakes her own mother did, the ones that Dan continues to do.

Trixie is, and will always be, her top priority.

So when her daughter starts talking about angels and Devils and demons, telling stories about friends who just can’t be real and deals made through prayer, she does what any good mother would do: she listens.

When Trixie tells her about her day and her adventures with her new best friends, Chloe smiles back and pays attention to every word, always making sure to sound supportive and to ask all the right questions, more than happy to see her so excited about something again, regardless of how odd it may sound.

And sure, it takes her some getting used to it and a lot of effort to keep her face neutral the first few times, but it’s a cheap price to pay to see some light in Trixie’s eyes again after everything they’ve been through.

Because Chloe knows. She knows things haven’t been easy for her recently, she’s always known— the fights, the divorce, the problems at school, and Chloe getting shot at one of her most recent cases certainly didn’t help matters one bit. Even as Trixie always made such an effort to never show anything— smiling when asked and pretending everything’s fine, something she unfortunately got from Chloe herself. Always too thoughtful, her little monkey. But a mother can always tell.

Even if in the end, Chloe never figured out how to address the sadness and worry she could still see troubling her daughter.

Until recently, that is. When it suddenly disappeared almost as if by magic.

She may not truly understand— Chloe’s never been one for religion, never believed in any of it nor understood having faith in a God that allows so many awful things to happen while supposedly being all-powerful and loving and just, and it never made a difference in her life no matter how horrified it made her former mother-in-law. But she doesn’t need to understand, not really.

All she needs to know is that Trixie’s happier now, more confident in herself. And that’s enough for her.

Of course, to say Chloe also worried at first is an understatement. It’s a natural reaction, really, when your eight years old casually announces over dinner that she made a deal with the Devil and he’s so funny, mommy, you should see him!

Her first instinct, once Trixie was asleep in her bed that night and Chloe could finally process everything, had been to treat it like a case, the only way she knows how to deal with what she doesn’t understand. She spent the entire night awake finding everything she could about it— looking for similar cases, reading every research article and every mommy blog about the subject while doing her best to steer away from stories that were of fictional or sensationalist nature, and even googled about the consequences of taking children to church that young— until all her worries were calmed down and her doubts settled, and Chloe knew for sure nothing was wrong.

(And she’s oh so grateful that Trixie’s imaginary friends are only strange but seemingly harmless. There were a lot of creepy stories online that still make Chloe shudder just to think about. No thank you. She’ll take the Devil with a sweet tooth and the demon who doesn’t know the disney princesses any day of the week over any of those, thanks.)

Chloe looks up as the front door opens and Dan comes through, wishing them good morning with a smile and giving their daughter a kiss on the top of her head as she giggled. It’s moments like these, the three of them together as a family, that reminds her so much of the old times that Chloe can’t help but bask in the feelings for a minute, before she forces herself to shake the nostalgia off.

Because this isn’t their house, and they’ve went down that road of trying again before.

It didn’t work.

No matter how much she’d tried and wished it would, no matter how many promises were made. Dan would never change and she knows it now, knows that work is and will always be more important to him, so there’s no point in dwelling on what-ifs anymore.

Besides, they’ve already signed the divorce.

“What’s that, munchkin?” she hears him ask Trixie, pointing at one of the drawings next to her— of a man with red eyes and wings wearing a tux and apparently holding a glass of something in his hands. In the one Trixie’s currently drawing so far there’s only her in an astronaut outfit, but Chloe knows better than to think that will be it.

At least the drawing of a red-skinned Devil stabbing an angel with a pitchfork is nowhere to be seen. Even Chloe paused at that one.

“That’s Lucifer,” her baby answers proudly with a toothy-grin. “He’s my friend!”

Dan raises his eyebrows, sharing a look with Chloe that is easily translated to ‘what the actual hell’, and she does her best to convey without words for him not to say anything. He nods but doesn’t seem happy about it, mouthing that they’ll talk about it later.

He turns back to their daughter, playing it casual. “Wow, it looks great, sweetie. Why the wings then?”

“Because he’s an angel, duh. That’s how he hears my prayers.”

“Right… duh.”

Chloe doesn’t try to hide her grin at Trixie’s nonchalant answer. For once, it’s nice to see someone else not know how to react to Trixie’s fantastical tales and replies. It’s easier to see the humor in the situation when it’s not her struggling to keep up with it. Though all her amusement dies a bit as Dan leans in closer to her, judgement clear on his face.

Clearly, he doesn’t find it as funny as she does.

“So, care to explain?”

“That’s her new imaginary friend,” Chloe tells him easy enough, hoping that would be it.

Of course it wasn’t. Though at least Dan has the common sense to keep his voice low so to not upset Trixie.

“Isn’t she a little old to have imaginary friends?” Dan asks, and immediately seems to regret it at the glare she sends his way. He winces. “I’m just saying! I mean, she’s eight already. She never had any before, so why now?”

“Exactly, Dan. She’s eight. That’s normal for her age.”

At least all her research assured her was the case, and Chloe trusts herself as a damn good detective.

But Dan doesn’t seem so convinced. “Still, the Devil? I’m not sure how to feel about that.”

“I know what it sounds like, trust me, but they’re honestly just normal imaginary friends. They like chocolate and watch disney movies with her and Trixie reads them bedtime stories.” She shrugs. “Besides, it was your mother’s idea to take Trixie to church with her.”

It’s meant more as a light teasing then an actual accusation, despite the many fights they’ve had in the past about it— Dan’s mother’s insistence about the importance of God and the church in Trixie’s life always grated Chloe a little, who was never big on introducing children to religion that young, but she’d yielded since it was important to his side of the family— and they both take a moment to imagine Mrs. Espinoza’s reaction to the entire situation. It helps lighten the mood, just as Chloe had wanted, but not by much.

“I’m sure that’s not what she intended with it,” Dan protests weakly, his hands thrown up, but there’s a little amusement there too. Good.

Chloe gives him a small smile, trying to go for reassuring. “It’s just normal kid stuff, there’s nothing wrong with a little imagination. She’ll probably grow out of it soon anyway,” she says, though it’s halfheartedly.

She honestly doesn’t mind it. It makes Trixie happy and, well.

There’s something oddly adorable about it all— the mental image of a big bad Devil who’s really not so bad at all, befriending a child and singing disney songs with her as they make a pillowfort together. Like in one of the many movies with friendly monsters that never fail to make her cry. It’s cute, really. Almost makes her wish she could see it, if not for the fact it's obviously not real.

“I hope you’re right about that. I have no idea how I’d tell my mom that her granddaughter ended up a Satanist.”

“And to think her biggest fear was for Trixie to grow up an atheist like me,” Chloe jokes, sharing a private grin with Dan. “There’s another one too— Masie, I think. Apparently they’re two peas in a pod, and Trixie wants to be like her when she grow up.”

“Oh? And what is she, a mermaid?”

They both remember Trixie’s old mermaid phase from two years ago. She’d made them take her to the beach whenever they had a day off for almost an entire month, saying she needed to train so she could become one in the future and be friends with the sharks. It’d been a fun, if exhausting, bonding family experience. Chloe still has one of the pictures as her phone wallpaper.

She shakes her head, amused and beyond glad to finally be able to talk about it with someone without sounding crazy or like the world’s worst mom, but she doesn’t get the chance to answer beyond that.

Trixie pipes up from where she’d been pretending to not eavesdrop, sighing deeply as if Chloe is being very silly again, which has been happening a lot recently. “It’s Maze, mommy! And she’s a demon, not a mermaid, which is way cooler. She promised me she’d show me her knives one day, she has lots of them.”

Chloe tries her best to not look sheepish when Dan snaps back to stare at her, his smile now gone.

“And Lucifer is really cool too, though not as cool as Maze,” Trixie continues on without noticing anything wrong. “He always speaks really fancy and says bloody and mum — like in Harry Potter! I like him, he’s a weird one. He answered my prayer even though he must’ve been very busy being the Devil and all, just because he’s nice like that.”

She nods and gives Trixie an encouraging smile, trying to look supportive while ignoring Dan.

Chloe will need to have a talk with Trixie later about how playing with knives is dangerous and very much not allowed no matter what Maze and Lucifer tell her once she’s back from school, hopefully without Dan there to judge her and her parenting. Like he can even say anything.

At least Chloe is trying.

“Oh, awesome,” Dan says, his sarcasm flying over Trixie’s head but hitting Chloe as he had intended. “Our daughter’s imaginary Devil has a british accent. That’s just great.”

“Dan—”

“No, I’m not saying anything else. I just hope you know what you’re doing here, Chlo’, I really do.”

Chloe frowns, hackles rising despite herself. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Honestly, Chloe understands being worried— she was too when she first heard about it, so yeah, she gets it. Dan’s like her in a lot of ways, it was one of the things that made her fall in love with him in the first place. They’re both worriers at heart. But to doubt her judgment when it comes to Trixie’s wellbeing? No way.

She refuses to feel chastened by a man who once forgot it was his turn to stay with his daughter two weekends in a roll, then had the nerve to use his busy job as an excuse as if they’re not both detectives. As if Chloe doesn’t have to work twice as hard to get half the merit in a police station full of people who can’t stand her and would rather see her trip and fall.

“You know what I mean,” answers Dan, in that same condescending tone that always manages to get under Chloe’s skin. “She’s our daughter—”

“And what, you think I don’t know that? I’m not the one who always seems to forget that fact—”

“— that’s not what this is about, and you know it.”

She scoffs. “It always comes back to that with you.”

A tense silence spreads through the room at that statement as it hits home— an old argument that always ends up being brought up one way or another with them, and quite frankly, she’s growing tired of it. Chloe glares at the man who was once her husband, who she once thought was the love of her life, almost as if daring him to say anything and deny it, to prove her wrong.

As expected, he doesn’t.

Instead, he sighs disappointed as if she’s the unreasonable one and grabs Trixie’s bright purple school bag throwing it over his shoulder, a sight that would once make her chuckle fondly but now only made her wince. Trixie, who’s fidgeting uncomfortable from where she’s watching them, drawings forgotten, with her big sad eyes that seem more resigned than anything else.

Shit.

A wave of guilt floods through Chloe at the realization that she’d been sitting there this entire time— yet another fight in front of her, even though Chloe had promised herself to never make her baby go through that again after she signed the divorce. Another broken promise. They hadn’t managed on morning, one single morning, without it ending up with barbs being traded. It wasn’t always like this. When did it all go wrong? How did they end up here, screwing up this badly?

How could they forget that Trixie was there watching them?

And of course, Dan takes her guilt as a win. Double shit.

“Come on, monkey,” he says, his voice soft now that he’s addressing Trixie. “Before you end up late for school again.”

Chloe gives her a smile that probably looks as convincing as it feels; which is not at all, by the matching one Trixie gives her back— a look that shouldn’t be that familiar on her face but is. She feels another stab of guilt at the way Trixie only nods subdued and gets up without a word, with not a trace of the excitement from just minutes before they ruined everything. They trade quick goodbyes, and Chloe can’t help but hug her a second too long as a makeshift apology.

Because Trixie should never, ever have to deal with their bullshit the way she’s clearly used to by now.

She watches them leave, shoulders sagging the second the car is out of view. God, what a mess. Chloe will have to cook her favorite for dinner tonight to make up for it, to reassure Trixie she hasn’t done anything wrong and isn’t responsible for her parents’ pettiness always getting the best of them. It won’t be enough but it’s a start.

Chloe goes back inside, trying to recall if what she has on her fridge will be enough or if she’ll have to do another grocery run for it— doing her best to keep busy and avoid acknowledging the empty feeling that always haunts her after a fight with Dan. She’s about to clean the table of what was left behind from breakfast when she sees Trixie’s drawings, and she’s unable to stop the proud mama smile as she goes through them.

She stares at one in specific for a second, something about the stick man’s red eyes bothering her in a small corner of her mind, before she shrugs and puts away all the crayons and various drawings with the exception of the one Trixie's just finished.

In it, she’s drawn herself proudly wearing an astronaut outfit with a sashe that declares her the President, a huge grin on her face as she stands between two other stick people, both wearing black— one is the same recognizable figure from before, sans the wings and red eyes, while the other was unmistakably a woman, with long brown hair and darker skin. Maze. The ground where they’re standing was painted with bright shades of red and Chloe refuses to wonder what that might mean, instead willing herself to believe it’s Mars. They’re all holding hands.

That one she puts on her fridge.

Chapter Text

It’s almost a week and half into their official agreement— so far, they’ve met twice now and have only just began their disney movie marathon, which everyone knows is essential to every friendship— when the front door opens out of nowhere and Lucifer and Maze come through, as always without knocking first and once again startling her babysitter, who by now is starting to get used to it and just leaves, shaking her head unamused. Trixie probably should do a better job at not laughing every time it happens, but her face! Oh, poor Miss Olga.

They both come to a stop in front of her, each holding something on their hands and bubbling with energy. Lucifer speaks first.

“Lucifer Morningstar,” he announces with a flourish, making Trixie giggle as he bows down before her all formal-like, as if she’s a princess in a movie, before handing her a small document with his picture and name written fancy on it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Officially, this time.”

Trixie nods. “Beatrice Espinoza,” she introduces herself, just as serious and businesslike, “but you can call me Trixie.”

They shake hands, then break into smiles again before either of them can help it at the silliness of it all. Maze snorts, fondly, before holding a similar document with her picture instead near her chest. She nods at Trixie, with a proud grin on her face that Trixie can’t help but answer with a smile of her own.

“Mazikeen Smith,” she says, and doesn’t quite manages to hide her own excitement. “I have a human name now too!”

Trixie makes sure to shake her hand too at that, just as seriously as before— and Maze rolls her eyes at the gesture, but still does it, not one to be left out. She looks at the documents they’ve given her, both looking so very important and new, and repeats their new surnames a few times in her head so she won’t forget before giving them back. It sounds cool, both of the names. It fits them.

She tells them as much, smiling at the way they both preen at her words, before it hits her. Trixie gasps.

“Does that mean you guys are staying?!” she asks, eager at the possibility of having her two best friends around more and already planning how to hide them in her room without her parents finding out about it. Maybe in her closet? It worked in movies.

If only Trixie could find a way to sneak them food, then they’d be all set.

Lucifer waves her off, trying to stop her from pulling his sleeves while making a face, but at his size Maze is already nodding.

“I had already been thinking about a more… permanent stay on Earth, might as well stick around now,” he tells her, satisfied when she finally lets him go. “Why not? It’s the perfect opportunity. All the travelling back and forth was starting to get bloody annoying, I tell you.”

“You should see it, he bitches the entire flight,” teases Maze.

That makes Trixie laugh— because she can imagine him doing exactly that, all grumpy and fussy, just like he is right now— and she doesn’t bother telling Maze that she said a bad word; she knows by now that the demon doesn’t understand what’s the fuss about it. Trixie doesn't mind it though. It makes Maze seem even more awesome in her eyes.

Lucifer splutters, offended. “I would like to see you try flying around all that ash while carrying a demon. You’re heavy!”

“Oh I’m sorry, my Lord, is someone getting old? That was never a problem for you before, where did all that celestial stamina go?”

Trixie watches as they continue with their bickering, unable to stop a smile from slipping as she oh so very innocently eggs them on from the side— it’s always so funny to watch them go. She tries to not think about this morning, with her parents fighting over her again. Maze and Lucifer may argue and tease each other a lot, but it’s not a fight, not really. They trade insults, but there’s always a layer of fondness underneath, and they always sound like they’re having fun. Trixie is always having fun.

It’s not the same thing at all.

Maze pokes her in the shoulder, making Trixie jump a little. It’s only then that she notices they’ve stopped and are now staring at her, both looking worried and a little confused. What happened, why are they looking at her?

“Trixie?” Maze asks, with a concern in her voice that sounds very unMazelike. “What’s wrong, little human?”

Trixie sniffs. Oh.

That’s why.

“Ah, ah! Maze, look what you’ve done now!” accused Lucifer, panicking at the sight of her tears. “Did you break the child?!”

Trixie giggles a little at his weirdness, but it’s a sad attempt and soon her face is all wet with tears.

She didn’t mean to start crying, but then again she hadn’t meant to upset her daddy this morning either— she didn’t know talking about Lucifer and Maze would make him mad, she swears, it’s just that he asked and she was still so excited about Maze’s promise to show her a few of her coolest knives one day— and now she want and made her friends upset too.

“Of course not, I didn’t do anything!” the demon immediately defends, but she doesn’t look very certain of herself.

Lucifer scoffs. “You must’ve done something! Look at her, she’s leaking!”

“Well, I didn’t! How do we know it wasn’t something that you did?!”

Trixie shakes her head, making the both of them stop and turn their attention back to her as they hover awkwardly in front of her. It’s not their fault she keeps messing things up like this. She sits down on the couch and they mirror her, sitting one in each of her side.

“Mommy and Daddy fought again,” she tells them, so small she’s almost unsure if they can hear.

“Do you want me to take care of them for you?” Maze asks almost immediately. And she looks a little uncomfortable, but genuine, as she always is.

“No,” Trixie answers with a sniff. “It’s all my fault anyway.”

“Nonsense, Beatrice,” Lucifer says, his voice gentle and a bit sad. He wipes a tear off her face, only cringing a little before quickly wiping it on the back of the couch. “The problems between your parents are not on you,” he assures her. “It’s not your fault, child. They should know better than to fight in front of you in the first place. That’s on them.”

He sounds so sure, if a tad cross on her behalf, that she can’t help but believe him— Lucifer doesn’t lie, after all. And it’s nothing her mom hasn’t told her before, but… if it’s not her fault, then why? Why do they keep fighting?

And she must’ve asked it outloud, because Lucifer answers.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly, so unlike any other adult she’s ever met before. “I must admit I never understood what goes inside a parent’s mind myself, not even my own. It’s quite the enigma, really, why they do what they do.”

Trixie nods, because grown-ups can really be confusing sometimes.

She pauses. “Did yours fight a lot, too?”

Lucifer considers it a bit before speaking up again, and his eyes look a little distant. “Not at first,” he tells her. “We used to be happy, once. Before everything, before all this,” he gestures at her living room, vaguely, “when me and my siblings were still young and naive. But with time Father grew distant and Mother grew colder, and their fights became explosive. Literally.”

Trixie grabs his hand, trying to comfort him the best she can.

She knows all too well how he must’ve felt— she can imagine a little angel with white wings and black hair, as small as herself, watching from behind a door as his parents have another row over something or another that he just can’t understand, and her heart hurts for him. It doesn’t look like he likes talking about it though, from the way he’s staring at the ground uncomfortable and how Maze is looking at him weirdly, so Trixie doesn’t let what he said weight further.

“I didn’t know you had a mom too,” she says, half hoping it’ll distract him and half being honest, because she really didn’t. It makes sense though— if God is Lucifer’s dad, why wouldn’t he have a mommy too?

It works, kind of.

“Well now, of course I do! How else did you think I was born? Father made you all after his own imagine, after all,” Lucifer answers as if she’s being very silly, fussing with his suit, but he looks glad at the change of focus. “The Goddess of All Creation. Though of course, you humans never even mention her existence in your little books. Why, I’ll never understand. Though it’s all mostly gibberish and lies anyway, so maybe that’s for the best. She’d hate it.”

Trixie doesn’t remember the nice priest from the Abuelita’s church saying anything about any Goddess, now that she thinks about it, but it makes sense since everything they said about Lucifer was wrong too. She doesn’t understand why people didn’t just ask them stuff before writing all those lies.

“Is she nice?”

That makes Maze snort and Trixie can’t imagine why. Does she know Lucifer’s mom?

Lucifer hesitates, but he takes her question seriously still. “I remember she used to be, before things went sour,” he answers after a few seconds of silence. “After that, she didn’t make a lot of time for us anymore.”

She looks at Maze, who’d been pretty quiet until now, and realizes she doesn’t know much about her family at all. “And you?”

The demon raises her eyebrows.

“What about me?”

“Do you have a mom, too?” Trixie asks curious. “Or a dad?”

Maze shakes her head. “Demons aren’t born, we’re forged in the bowels of Hell with a job to do and that’s it,” she says, and though Maze is smiling as she speaks Trixie thinks that sounds very lonely indeed. “What do we need a family for?”

Trixie frowns a little, saddened. She knows that in her school some of the kids only have a mommy or a daddy, with the exception of Annabel who has two mommies and a boy in her class that lives with his grandparents instead. But she can’t imagine not having a family at all, with nobody to hug her when she’s sad or to help when she falls. The thought makes her want to cry again.

Instead, she smiles up at Maze. “Well… you have us now, don’t you?”

Maze freezes.

So does Lucifer at her side, and they both stare at Trixie as if she’s grown a second, in shock, though she doesn’t understand why. But Trixie means every word and so she does her best to show it, not backing down even if the way they’re staring at her make her feel a little self-conscious. Maze deserves to hear it. She doesn’t think the demon is very used to kindness— nor is Lucifer, really.

That’s okay. Trixie can teach them.

After a moment Maze nods, tentative. Her eyes are still too wide. “Yeah,” she agrees, and she sounds choked up. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Trixie rests her head on Maze’s shoulder, satisfied. She pulls Lucifer closer, still holding his hand— and she can feel them both tense at her touch, but neither move away, and soon they began to relax and move if only slightly closer. She smiles brighter.

They stay that way for a while in comfortable silence until Trixie speaks up again.

“… Is it really not my fault?”

“Did you want them to?” Maze asks, blunt, but her voice is still quieter than normal. Trixie shakes her head. “Then nah. You’re a good kid, Trix. And I don’t know anything about your mom and dad, or humans in general, but I’m sure they know too. Or else they’re stupid.” She shrugs. “In that case, screw them. You have us.”

Trixie thinks about it for a second.

“They’re detectives, so they’re really, really smart.”

Maze pokes her in the belly, and they share a smile. “See? There you go then. Case solved.”

At her side, she can feel both of her friends breathe a little easier now that they’ve deemed the crisis averted and the awkward conversation was over. Lucifer asks her what’s the plan for today, which prompts Trixie to go fetch the nail polish bottle her grandma had gotten her— Miss Olga said she’d do her nails later today, but since she’s gone and they’re here…— as well as one of her mom’s, the black one she wore once for a party and never again and would suit Lucifer best.

He sighs at the sight of it, but lets her grab his hand again without a fuss and compliments her choice of color. She knew he’d like it.

“I thought Maze could paint mine too,” she says once they’ve settled down again, biting her tongue slightly as she focuses on not messing up her work as she carefully applies the nail polish to Lucifer’s nails. It’s not as good as when her mom does it, but it will have to do. “And maybe you could paint hers later? I have more colors, too.”

Lucifer doesn’t seem very enthusiastic at it, but he doesn’t seem to hate the idea either.

“Very well,” he agrees easily enough, looking at the bottles she brought with her. “I assume you’ll want yours orange, then?”

Trixie nods. She likes how bright and shiny it is.

“Then I’ll want that one too,” says Maze, before winking at Trixie, who only smiles excitedly at the idea of them matching and doesn’t say anything about how it’s what she’d been hoping from the very beginning and why she only brought out two bottles.

Once she’s done with Lucifer’s nails— who, despite his best efforts to hide it, seems to like them a lot more than he thought he would and can’t seem to stop looking at them— they change sittings and Maze quickly begins to work on hers, her work a lot steadier though she keeps cursing to herself whenever she makes a mistake.

It continues like that, the air between them peaceful and lively as Trixie shares stories from school and them a few edited stories from Hell and some adventures on Earth, until Trixie suggest, only half-serious and with mirth in her voice, that now that they’re here to stay they can always share her room if they need it— she has lots of pillows and plushies, they can make pillow forts and hide in the closet while she’s at school, and it will be like a sleepover party that never ends!

She knows it’s not very realistic, but she likes the thought of always having them around and Lucifer’s face makes it worth it.

“I would think not! I’ll have you know that I own quite a few properties around LA, thank you very much, all with the best views of the city! And even if I did not, I have more than enough money to acquire them as needed.” Lucifer scoffs, outraged. “Me, hiding in a child’s wardrobe like some kind of boogie man or a badly disguised hideous little alien. Preposterous!”

And Trixie laughs and laughs and laughs, and forgets all about her parents’ fight.

Chapter Text

It’s Halloween, and her parents are busy with work.

She’s not upset, even though mommy had promised— promised!— that they’d go trick or treating together this year, just the two of them. Trixie honestly understands. Catching the bad guys is important and she knows her mom doesn’t have much of a choice, what with being a very serious detective and all. She’s a little sad but she understands, really. It’s okay.

Trixie is however upset about the costume on her bed and even more about being left with a babysitter again, even though she’s not a baby anymore and doesn’t even need one. Honestly, what’s her mom thinking? Trixie can handle herself.

She looks at the babysitter in distaste and sighs.

It’s not Miss Olga this time, who doesn’t really have the energy at her age to work this time of the year anymore, but Shelley— who’s nice, Trixie supposes, but the teen always talks to her like Trixie is a little kid and never wants to do anything fun, which is just boring. Halloween is supposed to be all about candies and having fun! What’s even the point!

Gloomy, Trixie shoots Maze a text, telling her about how nothing today is working out for her and how she probably won’t be able to go trick or treating this year, even though she’d promised to share her candy, because Maze always makes everything better and is fun to complain with.

Unlike Lucifer, who ever since getting a phone only texts through emojis, which while always fun to translate doesn’t really make for conversation.

It doesn’t take long for her phone to ping with the demon’s answer.

From: Maze 🔪
‘damn that sucks pipsqueak’

From: Maze 🔪
‘just gimme a sec’

From: Maze 🔪
‘ 😈 ’

Despite having no idea what the other had planned, Trixie can’t say that she’s surprised when only a few minutes after the texts she hears the door open and her friends come through, letting themselves in as always. Of course they’d come to save the day.

Trixie grins, throwing her phone on the bed without a care for her paused candy crush game before running to go hug them, just as Lucifer finishes making a deal with Shelley— who apparently has some big party she really wants to go and is looking at him with the same odd stare Miss Olga did when they first met, like she’s not even aware she’s speaking. Weird. Maybe it’s some kind of angel superpower, Trixie guesses, making people go all funny-like around him to help with with deals. Maybe so they can’t trick him? That’d make sense. But he hadn’t done it with Trixie when they made their deal.

Well, she supposes she’ll have to ask him later about it.

Lucifer squirms under her hug, trying to bribe her away with money— which she quickly accepts before letting go reluctantly— but Maze just hugs her back immediately and gives her a fist-bump after she pockets her new twenty-dollars bills.

“So child, tell me. What’s this big emergency I hear?” Lucifer asks with fake disinterest. “Maze said you needed our help with something.”

Trixie lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s better if I just show you.”

It doesn’t take long for her to manage to put on the costume by herself and come back to the living room to show them, twirling around in pink puffy fabric without any real enthusiasm as she shows off the princess costume her mother got her this year. It’s a pretty dress and she likes the crown well enough, but… Well.

“What’s wrong?” asks Maze, not seeing the problem.

“I told mom I wanted to be a princess when I was seven,” Trixie tells her dejectedly. “Now I’m eight.”

Lucifer and Maze frown, almost in synch as they both ask: “So?”

She shrugs, looking down at her feet as she plays with the frills of the dress.

“Halloween is supposed to be the one night where you get to be whatever you want.”

Finally, they seem to understand. Her friends change their stance, looking at the princess costume up and down before Maze walks up to her with a smirk that promised a way to fix the situation. Lucifer is not far behind.

Maze raises her eyebrows in challenge. “And what do you want to be?”

Trixie smiles. She knew they’d get it.

“I want to be the President of Mars!”

Devil and demon both share a look, and they get to work.

…

It only occurs to them a few moments later that they have no idea what a President of Mars costume is supposed to look like, after Lucifer offers to buy her one saying money is not an issue only to find out that wouldn’t quite work here. Instead now they sit around in her room, grabbing whatever items may work thrown together as they try to make an outfit. It’s only slightly chaotic, and a lot of fun.

“What, exactly, would this costume of yours entail?” Lucifer asks, not for the first time but perhaps a little too late now that they’ve already started making it.

Trixie takes the question just as serious as all the others. She tries to think about what she’d wear in the future, but fails to come up with anything besides the astronaut helmet that Maze is already making and gluing two big antennas— or really, two plastic green cups— to, to the best of her crafting abilities which to be honest, weren’t many.

She shrugs. “More glitter?”

Lucifer seems to consider it, before sighing. “That will be Hell to get out of my Armani later.”

Which doesn’t sound like a no. Trixie smiles, excited. Of course it’s not a no, duh, everything's better with more sparkles.

His answer makes Maze snort.

“It’s not like it will be the first time,” Maze points out to him, focused on her frankenstein creation. It’s looking awesome so far. “Or the fiftieth.”

Trixie stares at both her purple dotted pants and the bright yellow ones with the ripped knees, wondering if they’d look good with the silver raincoat and the homemade transparent plastic ‘boots’ Lucifer still has to finish making that she will wear on top of her actual shoes, before deciding that yes they would, but the purple one would look better with Maze’s studded belt and Lucifer’s fun colorful necklaces.

“Different, circumstances, Mazie,” is all Lucifer says. “Different circumstances.”

Now what else…

“Hey Trix, do you want to borrow my whip for it too?”

The question makes both her and Lucifer stop, turning back to the demon in confusion.

Trixie frowns. “Why?”

“It’s good for keeping minions in their place.” Maze shrugs, showing off said whip. “Wouldn’t that be helpful as a president?”

She considers it for a second.

“Yeah, okay,” Trixie finally agrees. “I’ll look cool, like you.”

Maze smiles, satisfied, and adds the whip to where everything they’ve put together so far is laying on the bed. It’s starting to look busy.

Trixie loves it.

“I still think she should wear a nice, tailored suit,” Lucifer says. “It’s a classic. I could ask my tailor, I’m sure he could work with the deadline. And all presidents wear it.” He pauses for a second, before gesturing down at himself with a smirk. “Of course, not as well as yours truly, but we all know that’d be impossible anyway.”

It’s not the first time he suggestion he makes, though one of the few promptly rejected. The presidential sash he’d insisted on making is still drying by the window, looking perfect in its clumsy writing and layer of glitter.

Maze rolls her eyes. “She’s the president of Mars. Who would wear a suit in space?”

“I would.”

Trixie shakes her head and leaves the two to their banter, already used to it. Instead she focuses on finding some stickers to glue on the front and back of her raincoat, because she’s sure she’s left a few somewhere here that were space-themed from when she went to the observatory with daddy. If only she could find them… That’d make a nice finishing touch.

There!

“Please tell me that we’re done here,” complains Lucifer. “I wasn’t made for… arts and crafts projects.”

Trixie nods. “Almost.”

She ignores his exasperated sigh, looking at their creation trying to determinate what’s left to complete the work. The three of them stand side-by-side, tilting their heads in synch as they stare. What’s missing, what’s missing…

“I think it needs more glitter.”

This time, both of her friends groan— almost loud enough to mask her laughter.

She’s right, though. With the extra glitter the costume looks just right for the next President of Mars, and they’re finally ready to grab some candy. And though she’s a little sad she couldn’t spent it with her mom, Trixie still thinks it’s the best Halloween ever as she goes trick or treating holding hands with her two favorite people in the whole world, and manages to get more candy than ever.

It got even better once Maze showed her awesome demon face and together they managed to convince Lucifer to put on a headband with red horns on it, for all that he complained that he doesn’t have any and it’s all propaganda.

Halloween saved!

…

By the time her mom finally gets home, Trixie had fallen asleep on the couch after eating herself into a candy comatose while Shelley (who’d returned an hour before after the three of them had already finished two horror movies together) watched some boring grown up tv show that didn’t even have any blood in it about kissing vampires, Lucifer and Maze gone.

She wakes up to her mom staring at her amusedly and the babysitter nowhere to be seen.

“Did Shelley take you trick or treating?”

Trixie doesn’t lie and say yes, because Lucifer said lying was very bad indeed, so instead she sticks with the truth.

“Nuh-uh. Lucifer and Maze went with me, look how much candy we got!” Trixie raises the bags they’ve gotten proudly, though they were all pretty empty now. “They were all full before, mommy!”

Maze had made sure everyone gave her extra candy, even some of the mean older kids who Trixie knew sometimes would steal from the younger ones trick or treating alone, and Lucifer only needed to smile before people turned their entire bowls of sweets and sometimes even their wallets for her, complimenting him on the lovely family and sometimes even announcing how they’d be alone all night, though Trixie still doesn’t understand why that was important enough to tell them.

She pities them a bit though, for having to spend Halloween alone like that. Maybe they wanted a friend too.

Mommy frowns. “Trixie… you ate all that by yourself?" She tickles Trixie’s tummy, making her give some sleepy giggles. “You’ll get a tummy ache, you little monkey! You know you shouldn’t eat so much candy at once. You need to save them.”

“But I didn’t!” Trixie protests. “Lucifer and Maze ate it too, lots of it!”

And they had, Lucifer most of all with his sweet tooth. Trixie found that he likes all the candies, even the icky ones she would always leave for her dad, but he prefers cherry and chocolate best. And Maze, for all that she teased him a bunch for it, kept stealing his share. Trixie didn’t even get mad when they ate good part of her gummy bears too, because there’d been more than enough for everyone.

That makes her mom pause and give her that look— the one that tells Trixie that she doesn’t really believe what she’s telling her, but won’t say anything about it. But that’s okay. Trixie already knew she probably wouldn’t, though she can’t understand why.

“Well, I’m really sorry I couldn’t go with you this year like I promised, Trix. Work got busy. But I’m happy that you still managed to have fun.” She hesitates, before giving Trixie a small smile. “That you three had fun.”

But Trixie is already falling asleep again.

Chapter Text

The zoo, Maze finds out, is a lot like Hell.

Alright, so the screams aren’t nearly as anguished as she would’ve liked, and there’s not really any tortures being done beyond the crowd of tired parents being dragged around by their spawns, but the chaos is all there— and the cages too, all carefully designed for their intended prisoners.

It reminds her of home.

Or well, a milder, less fun version of it anyhow.

She misses it. It’s in her nature to, the hellfire running through her blood craving for the simplicity of down below, where what needs to be done is always clear and there’s never any confusing feelings involved, only pure instinct. She was made for it, and she misses it. But Maze finds that she doesn’t hate Earth nearly as much as she always thought she would either, whenever Lucifer would visit.

There’s no pain and suffering begging to be distributed, no screams of the damned nor never-ending fall of ashes and certainly none of the oppressive heat and atmosphere that she’s so used to and loves. Instead there’s the nightlife of LA, there’s parties and clubs full of booze and sex. And there’s other things too, things that shouldn’t be so interesting to a demon but are— things like disney movie nights and pizza and board games full of weird rules that she can never really grasp and always finds a way to cheat.

The company isn’t so bad either.

“I wanted to be a zookeeper once,” Trixie tells them, pulling her hand excitedly as they walk past the animals. “I still kinda want to, but being the first President of Mars is way cooler, and I can still have all these animals there anyway when I rule, so.” She stops for a moment to giggle as one of the monkeys does a dumb dance, and seems to have an idea. “Oh, or I could have a space zoo! That’d be awesome too. Can you imagine?”

“A space zoo?” Lucifer asks dubiously.

“Yeah! A big one, with every animal in the world— especially dolphins, did you know they’re super smart?— and maybe some space ones too. Do you think there’s space animals? My mom doesn’t think so, but she doesn’t believe in you or Santa either.”

Lucifer huffs at that, probably more offended at being put on the same level as some creepy fictional old man in a red suit than anything else— atheists are nothing new, after all. Maze doesn’t bother hiding her snort.

“It’s why she’s such a good detective though,” defends Trixie despite the fact that they didn’t say anything, with a hint of pride that’s almost always present when talking about the other human. “She says she always needs to see the evidence with her own two eyes. That way, the bad guys never get away!”

“Smart woman,” Lucifer says, but doesn’t sound that impressed.

Neither is she, to be honest. A human is a human, and they’ve both seen the LAPD at work since officially moving to Earth and how easily they can be bribed to look away. It’s hard to be impressed when you know the corrupt reality of it all.

But she’s a good mother to Trixie and that on its own deserves some respect. Not everyone can raise such a cool kid, human or not.

“I used to be a zookeeper,” Maze says after a beat, not really sure as to why. “... In a way.”

The excitement on Trixie’s face is worth Lucifer’s raised eyebrows.

“Really?!”

She shrugs. “Sure.”

It’s close enough anyway.

“That’s so cool.”

Maze ignores Lucifer’s amused stare, which quickly turns into a grimace as the little human takes advantage of his distraction and grabs his hand too, not seeming to care about his complaints about clingy children and their sticky hands. For all that he whines about it like a baby though, Maze notes, never once does he attempt to actually pull away. Her Lord is getting soft.

Then again, neither has she. So what does that make her?

“Did you have tigers there too?”

A good friend, Maze decides.

“Nah. But I bet I could win one in a fight with nothing but my best dagger, easily.”

It makes her a good friend.

…

Lucifer may have underestimated the child, he realizes far too late into the trip.

So far, the cunning little urchin has tricked him into buying her all kinds of different awful t-shirts, stuffed animals and every other little trinket that caught her eye in the gift shop she’d dragged them to despite their protests. Not to mention the balloons and cotton candy. Not that money is ever a problem for him— he has plenty to spare, that’s nothing for him— but really, must he wear this awful animal ears headband too? They don’t even match his outfit!

At least he can take solace in the fact that he’s not alone in this, though Maze doesn’t seem half as bothered as him with her striped orange ears. Lucifer can only hope that the headband doesn’t mess up his hair too much.

Though he hates the thought of seeing her in Hell, he must admit that Beatrice would make a formidable demon. This is torture.

He still takes a couple of selfies with it though— what? It’s for the insta— making sure to take a few with Mazikeen and the child too, with his brand new phone. And if Lucifer stares at one in particular for a moment too long before quickly putting it as his wallpaper, well, nobody needs to know.

That’s his secret to keep.

Still, Lucifer doesn’t understand why the child was so insistent on the importance of this trip nor what’s so fun about staring at caged animals who aren’t even doing anything particularly entertaining. But he can’t find it in himself to regret it either, as he watches Beatrice play the little game she invented, pointing at different animals while Maze answers whether or not she would win in a fight against it— the answer, unsurprisingly, is always yes. He expected no different from his best demon.

“And what about…” Beatrice looks around, rubbing her chin thoughtfully, before pointing at one of the habitats. “That gorilla? He’s pretty big!”

Maze scoffs. “Yes. C’mon Trix, I asked for a bigger challenge. This is too easy.”

Beatrice beams, apparently thoroughly charmed with the demon’s skill. Lucifer knows she’s been asking Maze to teach her how to fight like her recently, an idea Devil and demon both couldn’t agree more with— the child needs to know how to defend herself, even if she has two celestial beings at her side. They can’t follow her everywhere, after all. And he’s seen the worst humanity has to offer.

He refuses to let any of it get anywhere near her.

Beatrice runs circles around them trying to scout for a more challenging adversary before she spots a worthy one. She smiles.

“Them!”

They turn around to see where she’s pointing at and there, basking in the sunlight near the water, is a group of alligators with their mouths open for seemingly no reason at all, their sharp teeth in full view. Maze seems to consider it for a while, sharing a grin with Beatrice.

“All of them?”

Beatrice nods, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “All of them.”

“That,” Maze says, eyeing the animals with an eager look on her face, “would be a fun challenge.”

Lucifer holds his hands up before Maze could get the idea into her head to go and jump over the fence to try and fight the animals— the last thing they need right now is to ruin the trip the child was so invested in, to the point of making it a requirement in their deal even— and instead directs the both of them to the little food stands he saw earlier. Mazikeen rolls her eyes at him but doesn’t complain, as Beatrice immediately starts listing what she wants to eat while swinging their arms back and forth uncaring of the bags Lucifer is carrying.

It’s only half-way there that Lucifer notices he didn’t react when the child grabbed his hand again, too used to it by now.

“Do you think they have churros?” Beatrice continues saying, not really waiting for an answer nor realizing that Lucifer is only half-listening. He doesn’t pay much attention to Maze’s reply either— too busy feeling bewildered at himself.

When did this happen?

“Don’t know. Maybe.”

“I’m almost certain there’s one nearby that does,” he hears himself say, distractedly. He doesn’t mention that he’d researched the zoo beforehand to make sure it was up to par with what Beatrice wanted and knows for a fact that there is.

The child has a sweet tooth to rival even his own.

“I think I’ll want one, then. What about you, Maze? Have you ever eaten one before?”

Maze shrugs. “No. Are they any good? Maybe I’ll get one for myself, too.”

“Yeah! They’re really, really tasty. One day my dad and I went to this place—”

“Trix?”

Beatrice doesn’t answer Maze nor continues her story, going completely silent and stiff between them with her arms frozen mid-gesture, and Lucifer knows what’s wrong before he even notices the rest of the humans have stopped, too, and feels time comes to a halt around them— the once obnoxiously loud zoo now in complete silence. He rolls his eyes, cursing himself for forgetting about that particular featherly pain in the ass. For Hell’s sake, is Amenadiel truly incapable of leaving him alone?

For some unfathomable reason, this time the interruption feels a lot more bitter on his tongue.

Lucifer shares a glance with his demon, both looking grim, before finally spotting the angel. He can feel his eyes threaten to burn and his wings shift under his skin, as next to him Maze hovers her right hand over one of her many hidden knives ready to defend them if necessary. They won’t allow Beatrice to get dragged into this— she’s a child. An innocent. 

This time won’t be like the others.

Amenadiel doesn’t approach like expected, with his head held high and full of self-righteousness as he forces them back to Hell by any means necessary. Instead, the big oaf watches them from a distance, seemingly unable to decide where to focus his attention as he shifts between the three of them before settling on Lucifer, looking more confused than anything else though just as imposing.

Lucifer doesn’t understand why until he realizes he’s still holding hands with the child, shielding her with his body.

They stare at each other, neither daring to move a muscle, until with a bat of his wings Amenadiel is gone; the humans all around them continuing on with their lives unaware of what had just transpired as time starts again. Lucifer doesn’t allow himself to let his guard down, not yet. He knows his brother too well to think he will just let him be.

“— and they had really good— Maze? What’s wrong?” Beatrice asks, confusion clear on her voice as she pulls their hands, attracting their attention back to her and away from the empty spot where the other angel stood a few moments ago. “Lucifer?”

“Nothing, little human. Don’t worry about it,” Maze answers for him, giving her a small smile. “C’mon, I’m hungry. Show me more of your human food.”

The child nods, continuing with what she’d been saying before, though she doesn’t seem to have completely believed Maze’s assurance and keeps sneaking worried glances at them. Maze looks at him, and it’s clear she’s thinking the same thing.

This isn’t over.

Chapter Text

The front door of her mother’s beach house never looked so ominous before, as Chloe approaches it with careful steps making sure to not make any noise once she finally steps inside. She’s home early, she knows— but that was exactly her intention.

It had been a normal day at work, nothing out of the ordinary— that is until she decided to call her usual babysitter wanting to hear about Trixie after a rather arduous case, when the old lady informed her that Trixie wasn’t with her— her aunt, is it? and the handsome man took her again a few hours ago, said they were going to the zoo and that she thought that Chloe knew about it, since the two are always around.

She’d ended the call after that, going home as fast as humanly possible and probably breaking a few laws on the way there, but she barely gave it any thought, not when she didn’t know what would be waiting for her once she got there. Not when it’s Trixie on the line.

Chloe can’t help but let out a sigh of relief as she hears her daughter’s voice coming from the living room, something that she hadn’t even known was there easing up inside her chest. Trixie sounds fine, at least. That’s good. She can feel herself breathe easier at that. Chloe almost gets lost for a second listening to Trixie talk animatedly about something or another that a giraffe had done when a masculine voice answers to her.

With a british accent. 

Chloe’s hand goes to her holster, almost immediately— she never wears it home, not around Trixie, but today she couldn’t risk it. She starts slowly walking inside again, the door behind her closing with a soft click just as another voice, a feminine one this time, says something else. 

Chloe finally reaches the living room to see Trixie sitting on the ground, drawing on the coffee table like Chloe had seen her do many times before, while two adults— while Lucifer and Maze, she can’t not recognize them from her daughter’s many stories that now she knows can’t have been all imaginated, not when there’s drawings of them still hung on the fridge— sit on the couch near her, watching and trading comments. As if that’s something normal for them, which as she has just found out, it is. 

“Trixie?” Chloe calls out, her voice traitorously even.

Trixie turns around, beaming at her like there’s nothing wrong as she drops everything and runs out to hug her. Chloe smiles back at her, even as she keeps the other two on her peripheral the entire time— she hears the man commenting something about not understanding the child’s need to cling to people and if Trixie notices her mom’s hug turn a bit too tight, she doesn’t mention it.

“Mommy, mommy, you won’t believe it, I got to feed baby giraffes today! Their tongues are so gross!” she says in greeting, twisting her small button nose in disgust even as she continues giggling. Chloe’s heart tugs at the open joy on her daughter’s face. 

She always loved the zoo.

“Did you now, baby?”

“Yeah!” Trixie bounces back and forth on her feet, almost shaking in her excitement. “They said they don’t usually let you do that after feeding time and only with the big ones but Lucifer convinced them and it was so fun, mommy! Today was the best day ever!”

Chloe feels herself unconsciously tense at the man’s name, looking up just in time to see him perk up and approach them taking it as an opening, and Chloe’s sure she doesn’t want to hear whatever it is he has to say. She puts a hand on Trixie’s shoulder, pulling her closer to her side and moving ever so slightly in front of her to face the man while still being half-turned to her daughter.

“All it took was a simple deal. Nothing interesting, really,” Lucifer— if that’s even his real name, which Chloe doubts— says, either not noticing or not caring about her defensive posture. He gives her what he must think is a charming smile. “You must be the mother, then!”

She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. The man continues as if unconcerned.

“Lucifer Morningstar,” he introduces with a flourish, purring the next words, “it’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

Chloe ignores him— is he seriously leering at her? Right now?— and instead turns back to Trixie and gives her best Mom Look. “Trixie, baby, you know you were supposed to stay with Olga today. When I leave you with someone I want to be able to trust that you’re still with them so I know not to worry. I want to be able to trust you, and now I’m not sure I can,” Chloe tells her honestly. “Have you done this before?”

Trixie looks away, which is enough of an answer by itself. Chloe already knew the answer anyway.

“I’m sorry, mommy, you can trust me! I promise! But Miss Olga is just so boring, and she never wants to do anything fun so I thought I could just go to the zoo with Lucifer and Maze instead,” she rushes to explain, guilt clear on her little face, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I know, monkey. But you still shouldn’t have done it, or should have at least called me first and asked me. That’s why we gave you that phone.”

Chloe sighs, stroking her daughter’s cheek gently before letting her hand fall to her shoulder again so to make sure Trixie knows she isn’t mad at her. They still have to talk about this, and they will, but right now there’s more important things at hand and Chloe needs to keep her focus on them— like ‘Lucifer’ who’s still unashamedly staring them and Maze, who hasn’t said a word yet.

She looks up at the other adults for a second, barely containing her glare, before turning to Trixie again, her voice as soft as she could muster as she asks, “Do you remember what we talked about talking with strangers?”

Trixie twists her nose, looking at her in exasperation.

“Lucifer and Maze aren’t strangers, mommy. They’re my friends!”

Before Chloe can come up with a way to rebutte that though, Lucifer pipes in. He points at Trixie as if she’s just made a very good point, smiling at Chloe with that same obnoxious smile from before that only makes the white fury inside of her seethe further. 

“Yes, exactly. She tricked me into making that deal— quite cunning, really, your offspring. To be able to trick the Devil. You should be proud. I imagine she got her intelligence from you.” He smiles at Trixie, who preens. “Besides, the child was perfectly safe, I can assure you,” he says and even has the gall to look offended at the implication that she would not be, as if he has any right to. “Mazikeen and I would never allow any harm to come to her.”

Maze gives a nod in agreement, narrowing her eyes at her. “Trixie is under my protection. No one would dare to try and hurt her.”

“Right, well, forgive me if I don’t believe you,” Chloe snaps, addressing them for the first time.

She regrets it once she sees Trixie’s face fall, a small frown forming on her face at the tense air around them not understanding what’s wrong. Chloe takes a deep breath, reminding herself that in her daughter’s eyes they were her friends and that she did tell Chloe, it’s not her fault that given all the fantastical tales and descriptions of them she assumed as any normal eight years old Trixie had been talking about imaginary friends.

Goddammit, Chloe is a cop. She’s a damned good detective.

How will she even explain that she allowed two complete strangers, two grown adults she’s never met, to be around her child just because she didn’t think to take her daughter seriously? Shit. She must be the worst mother in the world.

And to think she was proud of herself for how she handled it. Chloe doesn’t even want to imagine how Dan will react to this.

She gives the two a scathing glare— the goddamn lunatics that are lucky she doesn’t shoot them right here and now for ever daring to approach her little monkey and, God forbid, if they so much looked wrong at her, if they so much thought about taking advantage of her childish naivety, Chloe can’t make any promises about what she’d be able to do then, for her— then stores it all inside a little box in a corner of her mind for later, as any good cop (if she can even still call herself one) learns pretty quickly how to do.

“Trixie, monkey,” she says, voice deceptively calm as Chloe gives her daughter an Oscar-worthy smile, not wanting to spook her daughter even more. It wasn’t her she was angry with— never her, never her little angel.

She reaches for her bag, pulling out what’s inside of it without for a second taking her eyes out of the tall man. Chloe leans in a little closer, as if about to tell a secret, before showing her the surprise, and with a loud gasp Trixie stares at it with wide hungry eyes.

“Look what your dad got you, baby: your favorite! Double fudge chocolate cake, as an apology for not being able to come to Taco Tuesday again.”

They share a small smile— Chloe’s a lot more strained, though not as fake as the last one as the sight of her daughter’s happiness never failed to warm her heart and make her smile— as she handles her the cake, both already familiar with this.

The moment it touches Trixie’s hands though it is quickly and rudely pulled away.

“I’ll take that as my payment, thank you,” Lucifer announces, cradling the cake close to his chest and seemingly uncaring about the entire situation.

Chloe stares in shock, her tight smile now completely vanished and she almost expected all her fury to come back at once at the man’s act but instead she’s far too confused to focus on anything else. The… the nerve of him!

To her surprise, Maze seems to share her sentiment, or at least part of it, as she immediately kicks Lucifer on the shin. Chloe blinks. She hadn’t even been aware the woman moved closer, which is an alarming thought. She could swear she was on the couch a second ago.

“Come on, share it with the kid.”

Trixie— her kind, thoughtful baby— just sighs, apparently not surprised at all with the change of events. 

“It’s alright, he can have it,” she says, amused. “He must be really hungry.”

Lucifer holds the cake closer to him, protecting it from Maze. “It’s my payment!” he defends himself, and is he— is he seriously pouting right now? What the hell. “Beatrice said that it was even better than the puddings.”

Beatrice? Nobody calls Trixie that, she hates it. Chloe frowns.

It doesn’t seem to convince Maze, who continues glaring at the man until he caves and sighs. Lucifer very magnanimously hands the cake back to Trixie, who only giggles at his antics and is more than happy to accept the cake back.

“Don’t forget half of it is mine by right per our deal,” Lucifer tells her. “I wouldn’t recommend attempting to steal from the Devil.”

Chloe watches as the three bicker and joke between them, not knowing what else to do and feeling completely wrong-footed.

This isn’t how she planned for this to go.

It had been a simple plan, really; get Trixie as far away from them as possible before interrogating and arresting the two possible-perverts who dared to trick her daughter. Sure, Chloe didn’t have a lot of time to plan it in detail while rushing to get here, but it was easy enough to follow.

Now though, Chloe can’t help but notice all the little details that were so common in her daughter’s tales, trying to piece together the characters she knows with the very much real people in front of her. Stupidly, she focuses on their nails— Lucifer’s are messily painted black— a matte nail polish she recognizes as her own— while Trixie and Maze have theirs matching with an eye-sore orange.

Chloe cleans her throat, calling the attention back to herself though the other two adults don’t seem all that impressed. She reminds herself that she’s the cop and is armed, and that her priority right now is her daughter’s safety.

“Monkey, why don’t you eat your half of the cake in your room?” Chloe can see the surprise and confusion on Trixie’s face, as she’s usually not allowed to eat in the bedroom, but she’s quick to wave away her worries. “It’s alright. But just this once, okay? I want to talk with your friends a bit.”

Trixie hesitates for a moment, seemingly able to tell that it’s not just that and looking between them as if trying to tell if it’s really alright— and it’s a familiar gesture, it hurts Chloe to remember it’s something she and Dan used to do a lot, trying to keep their fights away from her the best they could— but she goes without a fight. In her door, there’s a sign written in crayon: No Boys Allowed, except for Lucifer and dad.

Chloe remembers helping her put it there.

The second the bedroom door closes, Chloe’s attention goes back to the two adults in front of her immediately, all traces of her smile gone as she stares at them, her expression serious and completely fucking furious.

“So. Give me a reason not to shoot you two right this very second, as I am very much tempted to do.”

Chapter Text

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, staring bemused at the woman before them as Maze scoffs at his side.

“I’d like to see you try,” she says in challenge, with a smile that’s almost poisonous, though she doesn’t pull out any of the many weapons he knows she has hidden on her, which Lucifer takes to mean the demon isn’t as unimpressed by the threat as she seems.

He understands. Threatening the Devil and his right-hand demon— however uselessly, that takes guts. 

Lucifer likes it.

“Well, for one, it would be rather pointless, given that bullets don’t work on me,” he answers easily, though really it should’ve already been obvious. Maybe Beatrice didn’t get her intelligence from her mother? But that seems unlikely… Oh, well. “But whatever gets you going, darling, I don’t judge. I’ve seen and done just about everything, what’s a bit of roleplaying to get things started? Tame, really.”

“Are you serious—?!”

Lucifer elects to ignore that question and continue, giving her a winning smile. “Secondly, I imagine it would upset Beatrice quite a bit.”

That doesn’t seem to be the right thing to say, somehow.

The woman’s frown deepens. “Do not try to use my daughter against me.”

Now it’s Lucifer’s time to frown, raising both palms up— he hadn’t meant to. He was only being truthful.

“Look, I don’t know who you think you are, mister,” she continues to Lucifer’s bafflement, sounding rather furious, though maybe he should’ve already expected that like her daughter she wouldn’t be one to react like everyone else. “But I’m not happy about you two going behind my back and spending time with Trixie unsupervised. Now I don’t blame her for believing in all your fairytale nonsense— she should know better, but she’s still just a kid. I get it. I know she’s been lonely and having trouble at school.”

Fairytale nonsense? Lucifer and Maze trade a confused look.

He thought Beatrice told her mother about them?

“But you’re both adults! There’s no excuse for you, you should know already that this is beyond inappropriate.” She glares at them, her eyes turning icy. “I have no idea what you were planning with my daughter—”

Now wait a second!

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding—” 

“— but you better start talking, starting with your names and your intentions here. And don’t test my patience, or I’m taking this to the police station and you’ll have to answer me there instead. So, start. Talking.” 

Lucifer blinks at her. “We already told you our names,” he points out, confused.

“Your real names, please.”

Maze shoves her human identifications at her, rolling her eyes. “Mazikeen,” she says, pointing at herself, before turning to him who quickly catches up and hands the woman his own documents as well. “Lucifer. Like we said.”

It doesn’t seem to really convince Beatrice’s mum, who frowns at the IDs in her hands and studies them carefully— and they’re very good fakes, if Lucifer may say so himself, having paid a pretty penny for them— but she doesn’t say anything else about it either. Instead she takes a picture of each of them with her phone before handing them back accordingly.

She nods at them to keep going.

“Your daughter was the one to call us here,” Lucifer tells her, though really, technically Beatrice had only called for him. Maze had been an improvisation on his part. “She wanted a friend— apparently enough to make a deal with the Devil for it.”

That gets him a raised eyebrow. “And I’m supposed to just believe that?”

“It’s the truth, you can ask the little urchin yourself.”

The woman seems to consider it, before shrugging. “Alright, sure. And how did she call you?” she asks. She doesn’t seem to believe it as much as she seems to be indulging him. “What, does the Devil hand out pamphlets now? Did she see your number in an ad?”

Lucifer sputters a little at the indignity of said mental image.

“She prayed,” Mazikeen answers for him, saving him the trouble. “Duh.”

Mama Beatrice gaped at them, before schooling her face. “Riiight. Duh. That makes sense.” She shrugs. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Lucifer nods at her, smiling, though he has a feeling this meeting isn’t going as well as planned. Maybe it shouldn’t be so surprising, really; he can’t imagine many parents would be happy to learn their children were in league with Satan himself… But he’d gotten so used to Beatrice’s easy acceptance that it was easy to forget most humans weren’t like her. If any would be, though, shouldn’t it be her mother?

“Alright, I’m taking you both to the station.”

He expertly dodged the hands coming to grab his wrists, holding up a hand to stop Mazikeen from attacking the woman in his defense.

“Now, hold on!” Lucifer is quick to say. “We’ve committed no crime in the eyes of your feeble human laws.”

“That’s debatable,” she argues unreasonably, before seeming to come to her senses that arresting them as of now is a futile effort and huffing, closing her arms in front of her chest as she glares at them as if they’re at fault. “Though it better be true, because if I find out you touched a single hair in my daughter’s head—”

“Excuse me?”

Maze frowns, offended. “Trixie couldn’t possibly be more safe than with us. No one would dare harm her while she’s under our protection.”

Lucifer doesn’t correct Mazikeen’s assumptions, because just the thought of what the woman was implying makes him balk. The thought of him doing such a thing— of him being capable of even thinking something so vile as that… Somehow, that was worse than anything else humanity ever accused him of. He always took pleasure in punishing those repugnant souls that appeared in Hell, as did all of his demons.

To mistake him for one of them was unthinkable.

“The Devil is no pervert!” Lucifer protests indignantly, his words barely more than a growl as he finds himself unable to hide the anger in his voice at such accusation. “Why, I’d never! You dare to accuse me of—!”

He forcibly calms himself as he remembers that Beatrice is only a room away, not wanting to scare her or remind her of bad things.

Lucifer takes a deep breath, staring down at the woman in front of him. “I’d never take advantage of Beatrice, or any child for that matter, like that.”

The Detective— because he can no longer think of her as anything else, not anymore— doesn’t hesitate, not looking away from his glare even in the face of his rage. He can feel as she tries to discern his sincerity, searching his face for any clues or unspoken answers, and a weight seems to leave her shoulders as she deems him honest.

She nods, relief clear in her face. “Alright.”

And just like that, all the fire leaves him. Lucifer can’t judge her for being worried for her child, when he himself had first assumed such when he first heard Beatrice’s prayer. He understands the fear all too well, knowing the worst of humanity.

Of course a detective would as well.

“Yes, well.” He fixes his cufflinks, trying to maintain his pose. “I’ll have you know, I punish evil. I don’t partake in it.”

“Right… Because you’re the Devil.” 

“Duh.”

Lucifer grins. “Exactly!”

Finally, she seems to understand it.

The Detective rolls her eyes. “You know, this whole… act doesn’t work on me, right? I don’t even believe in— you know what, nevermind. It doesn’t matter. I don’t even know why I’m trying to argue with you when you’re both clearly crazy.”

Or not.

It’s Lucifer’s turn to roll his eyes, now. Honestly, he’ll never understand humans and their tendency to cling to denial over simple universal truths, something that Maze clearly agrees with given the groan she lets out.

“Ugh, I forgot how annoying atheists can be,” says Maze, more to herself than not, though she doesn’t bother lowering her voice.

Lucifer couldn’t agree more.

“Very well, then,” he decides. “If it’s proof you require.”

Taking a step closer to the Detective he draws her attention back to him, being careful not to loom as he’s learned humans can find intimidating. The last thing he wants is for her to think he’s a threat to her and hers. With care not to pull any real fire behind it, he flashes his eyes.

He tries to not take any offense as she flinches, backing away.

(It shouldn’t sting, Lucifer tells himself. Not after so long with such a reaction being the norm. Yet it does. It does.) 

(Maybe he’s gotten a little too spoiled by Beatrice.)

Maze punches him in the shoulder. “Nice going, genius! You broke the human.”

“What! She’s a detective, this would never go anywhere if we didn’t give her any evidence,” Lucifer defended himself, making a face as he massaged the wounded area. It hurts! “It was obvious.”

The Detective looks at the two of them with wide eyes, seemingly unable to pick what to stare at. 

She turns to Maze. “You…!”

“Yup. I’m a Demon,” Mazikeen answers in an overly casual tone, sounding almost bored. Lucifer huffs. “You know, forged in the bowels of Hell to torture the guilty for all of eternity, yadda yadda.” She gives her a shark smile, wiggling her eyebrows. “Boo.”

Who’s being callous now?

The other woman sucks in a breath, her hands going straight to the holster at her hips as she shakes— for all that she tries to hide that little fact from them and remain stoic. Lucifer frowns. Perhaps she’s more shaken by it than he’d first believed.

“Mazikeen,” he reprehends, but Maze waves him off impatiently.

“No. No, this is stupid. We’ve been hanging with the kid for how long now?” she snaps. “And nothing happened! That little human, she— she’s…” Maze fumbles, looking the most vulnerable Lucifer has seen her since… well, since ever.  She seems to struggle to find the words to describe how much Beatrice means to her— to both of them— and somehow, Lucifer understands exactly what she means still.

Beatrice truly is an extraordinary child, sticky fingers and all.

“She’s my friend,” she ends up saying, lamely.

They share a smile, tired and incredulous, at the fact this one small, wonderful child has them both wrapped around her little finger.

The sound of laughter startles them out of it. Lucifer blinks, turning back ready to glare at the human who dared to laugh at their moment of sentimentality only to notice that she seems to be having trouble holding herself together— her laughter a bit too hysterical to be mean-spirited. He sighs, holding Maze’s arm to stop her from lashing out. It wouldn’t do to hold this against the Detective.

Humanity rarely handles well with being exposed to the divine.

They have no choice but to wait as she calms herself down, not wanting to make it worse by crowding her nor being comfortable with the idea of offering comfort, for all that they’ve been clumsily learning how to do with Beatrice. It’s different, however.

“Oh God— shit, does that mean God's real? Dammit.” The Detective massages her temples, likely staving off a migraine, but quickly pulls it together. She looks them in the eyes even as she reeks of fear. “Look, I— it doesn’t matter. Okay? I can’t risk it. This doesn’t change anything, it only complicates things even more. Maybe you’re telling the truth, and the Devil has a bad rep and is a softie inside, and you’re both friends with my daughter. Even if I believed that, even if I wanted to believe that— I still can’t risk it, you understand?”

She takes a deep breath, and Lucifer can almost see the fight leaving her.

“Trixie is the most important thing in the world for me,” she says, and her voice is shaken but honest. “She’s my baby.”

Oh. Lucifer stares at her, at this show of pure and unaltered parental love, and nods. 

He’s offended, he’s hurt, but he gets it.

Lucifer holds her eye contact, impressed that even after everything she still doesn’t drop it. “Tell me, Detective… What is it that you desire?” he asks, unsure if it’s one last plea or just something he needs to know.

The woman seems to feel no pull towards him, her eyes remaining clear, but still she answers with a soft, “I just need Trixie to be safe.”

He nods, somber.

“I understand.”

And with one bat of his wings, the Devil and his right-hand demon both disappear.