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Cold.
Cold and dark.
Cold and dark and... snow?
Cold and dark and snow and the world was upside down.
Chloe came back to consciousness in bits and pieces. She knew something was wrong, but she kept fading out before she could put her finger on what. She stared at the upside down world outside the car through bleary eyes. Why was everything upside down? Were they somehow in Australia?
Oh, no. She was upside down. Not the world.
She braced a hand on the roof, which was now the floor, and tried to unbuckle her seatbelt. It didn't feel like her hands were connected to her body. They floated on the end of wobbly noodles, and she wasn't sure if she could keep the one braced on the roof steady for all that long.
The seatbelt clicked and she fell gracelessly to the floor, her noodle arm no help. Now she was huddled in between the seat and the dash, and it was very uncomfortable and her head hurt. It was cold inside the car, and dark outside. She could just barely see tiny snowflakes falling around them.
Them. Because she was in the car with someone.
She turned her head slowly, careful to keep her brain from sloshing over the sides. Lucifer — her partner, Lucifer, who was also the Devil — was unconscious beside her. For a brief moment, she was surprised to see him there. She had almost gotten used to life without him over the past few months, after what she called — in the safety of her own head — The Big Reveal.
But the Tahoe police had specifically asked for her and Lucifer to come help with a string of ski resort murders. Or, well, they'd asked Lucifer, and she had somehow been roped into it. She wasn't happy about it.
"Lucifer," she rasped and cleared her throat before trying again. "Lucifer."
He didn't respond. Blood was drip drip dripping onto the floor — roof — underneath him. Shit.
She reached over and tried her car door. It opened grudgingly, but she was able to crawl out and into the snow. Her head pounded with the movement. The snow on the ground burned her fingers with how cold it was. She upgraded the temperature from cold to freezing as she tried to stand. The first time, a wave of dizziness overtook her and she fell on her ass, jolting her head enough to bring tears to her eyes.
She leaned against the car for her second try, and managed to push herself to her feet. The dizziness was worse when she was standing, and she wasn't looking forward to bending over to check Lucifer. Maybe she should have stayed in the car, where she could have passed out for a while again. That sounded much better than standing in the cold where every shiver made it feel like a spike was being driven through her head.
She definitely had a concussion.
She circled to the passenger side, one hand hovering over the car to catch herself if she started to fall. The ground kept moving, trying to trip her up, and she did not appreciate it.
Once she was on Lucifer's side of the car, she discovered that bending over was not okay. Her vision whited out from the pain in her head, and when it cleared again, she was sitting on the ground. She didn't remember sitting down, but she was in the perfect position to try to open his door without bending over.
It opened, but not all the way, digging into the ground with just enough space for her to squeeze in to check Lucifer's pulse. It was steady, but the blood hadn't stopped its slow drip, and she couldn't see where it was coming from.
"Lucifer," she said for a third time.
His eyelids fluttered but settled closed again. After a moment, he slurred, "D'tective?"
She sat back, even though it just got her jeans more wet. "Yeah, you need to wake up."
"'m I drunk?"
"No, you hit your head." Her vision had started swimming, but she couldn't pass out again, not in the dark and the cold. They needed to get up and find shelter before the snowstorm got worse.
"Hit my... head?" He sounded confused, like maybe he wasn't sure he had a head to begin with.
"And you're bleeding," she said. She blinked, hard, and her vision stopped swimming as much. There weren't two cars anymore, just one and a half. She'd take it. "Where's the blood coming from, Lucifer? You need to wake up and see for me."
"Head hurts," he said. But his eyes slowly opened, and he frowned. "Why'm I upside down?"
"We wiped out," she said. "Into a tree."
Lucifer groaned and reached for his seatbelt. He couldn't be hurt anywhere serious if he was doing that, she hoped. When he unbuckled, he fell against the door with a cry of pain. Now she could see a good-sized gash on his head that was oozing blood. He must have a concussion too.
He looked up at her from the ground, eyes liquid and shining in the moonlight. "It's not supposed to hurt," he said and started to drag himself out of the car. He was shivering by the time he got out and had his eyes screwed tightly shut.
She leaned back against the car as he slumped next to her. Her vision was slowly sliding back into being one to one. One car in reality, one that she was seeing. One Lucifer in reality, one that she as seeing. That was something she could deal with. She shuddered at the thought of there being more than one Lucifer.
"Cold," Lucifer said, or asked, his head lolling back against the car even as he turned it to look at her.
"Freezing," she corrected. She could feel the snow melting through her jeans as they started getting clammy against her skin. She pulled out her phone. No service. "Does your phone have service?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
He fished it out, then shook his head, immediately regretting the motion if the way he pressed his lips together was anything to go by. His skin took on a greenish tinge.
"Don't puke on me," she said, thinking about inching away but unable to come up with the energy to actually do it. If he puked on her, she was going to puke on him.
"'M not going to vomit," he said, but he didn't sound so sure about that.
"Okay," she said as he looked even greener. "But when you do, do it-" He leaned over — away from her — and puked. She turned her head away, not wanting to see it. When the noises stopped and the sound of Lucifer's pained gasping filled the air, she turned back.
"That was-" he said, sounding much more together "-absolutely ghastly. Do you humans-" His mouth closed with a snap on the word.
And she had been doing so well not thinking about that.
"We need to find somewhere to wait out the storm," she said, deciding to ignore his words and the truth of them for the time being. She pushed herself to her feet, putting an unsteady hand on the car.
"Right," Lucifer said. He got to his feet much more slowly, grimacing and running his tongue over his teeth as he did.
If the car wasn't upside down, if the road they had been driving on was more well-traveled, they could have — should have — just stayed with it. Everything she knew about this sort of thing said stay with the car. But it was snowing hard, and she was pretty sure she had seen a cabin up the road. Maybe the people staying there would have a phone and let them wait out the storm with them.
"Come on," she said, and headed for the road.
"Where are we going?" Lucifer asked, sounding more steady than he had been. She glanced back at him. There was a smear of blood on his forehead from where he'd tried to wipe the trickle away, but the cut looked like it had stopped bleeding. He was following her, but he kept glancing back at the car.
"We drove past a cabin a mile or so up the road," she said. "We can probably use their phone."
"I don't remember seeing a cabin," he said, sounding doubtful, but he caught up with her anyway and shortened his stride to match hers. They fell into step beside each other, in sync from years of practice. If it weren't for the snow and the pulsing headache, it would feel almost like old times again.
Almost.
She stole tiny glances at him as they walked. Somehow, she expected him to have changed since The Big Reveal, to look different somehow. There should be some visible sign of the thing that had ripped their lives apart, split them like two halves of an apple. And yet, he was still the same Lucifer he'd always been. The same profile, the same walk, the same voice. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had changed. She couldn't look at him without seeing those burning eyes, the burnt and flayed skin, the truth of what he was.
It took her a good five minutes to notice how hard he was shivering. The coat he was wearing was more stylish than warm, and she was certain he didn't have gloves or a hat. He looked much colder than she felt. She supposed it made sense. Hell probably wasn't a cold place, and LA definitely wasn't.
With some reluctance, she stripped off her gloves and her hat, and held them out to him. She wasn't going to give him her coat, she wasn't that self-sacrificing, but she didn't really need the gloves and hat as much as it looked like he did.
He glanced to her, confusion written over his face, before he saw what she was holding out. "I'm not going to take your winter gear, Detective," he said, frowning. "Your fragile human body-"
"Is built to withstand this sort of weather much better than your currently mortal body is," she finished for him. She thrust the hat and gloves forward. "Take them."
He must have been truly freezing, because even though he still looked uncertain, he carefully plucked the clothing from her hand and tugged them on. It didn't stop the shivering, but she thought that maybe he didn't look quite so cold.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "I seem to be... under-prepared for this trip."
"Just a little," she said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. She was wearing sensible "we're going up a mountain to investigate serial murders" clothing. While he looked very stylish, it couldn't be said he was wearing weather-appropriate gear. Her feet were almost warm in her boots. His must have been freezing.
They didn't talk as they walked, and Chloe wasn't sure if she was relieved or... angry? It was the quietest Lucifer had ever been in her company, and while a part of her appreciated that he wasn't pushing for once, she thought that maybe a piece of her wanted him to. The small, quiet piece of her that wanted to know she actually mattered to him.
By the time they made it to the cabin — and she was right, there was one there — she was pretty sure both their lips were blue. She knew her cheeks and nose had pinked up from the cold, but Lucifer was looking pale, like he would fade into the snow if she took her eyes off him.
She went up and knocked on the door without much hope of anyone answering. The cabin was dark. Not abandoned — it still looked in good condition — but there was definitely nobody home. This was confirmed when nobody answered her banging. The knob wouldn't turn, so she swiveled and looked expectantly at Lucifer. His eyes were glassy and far away. He must have hit his head harder than she thought.
"Lucifer," she said, and motioned to the door when he turned his attention on her. "There's no one home. Could you do your magic lock thing?"
"'S not magic," he huffed through chattering teeth, but stepped up and opened the door anyway.
The cabin was one big room, with a single door that she assumed led to a bathroom. One corner was devoted to the kitchen, there was a bed in another corner, and, most importantly, a fireplace along one wall.
"I'm going outside to see if there's firewood," she said. She hadn't seen anything when they were coming up the steps, but there might be some around one side of the cabin. She wasn't above going out and just gathering sticks and hoping they would light, either.
The wind buffeted her as she walked around the corner of the cabin, a bucket she had found on the porch in hand. The snow was picking up too, falling faster and swirling around her. There was nothing around the first corner, and nothing at the back, and Chloe felt her heart begin to sink. They might literally freeze to death if they didn't get a fire going. She hadn't seen any other source of heat in the cabin, or alongside it.
The third side was the charm. Split logs were stacked underneath an overhang, and she was able to fill the bucket with both logs and kindling. She trudged through the snow — now quickly accumulating — and back into the cabin. Lucifer was sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace, hunched over and looking miserable. She couldn't blame him.
"I don't suppose you know how to start a fire," she said.
He gave her a blank look, and she sighed. He flinched slightly when she did, and went back to watching the empty fireplace.
She hadn't done Girl Scouts for long, but one of the things they had learned in the brief time she was with them was how to build a campfire. This was just like a campfire, right? Wood, kindling, matches on the mantle, and they were good to go.
It took a few tries, but she managed to get the fire started, and soon there was a crackling blaze in front of them. Lucifer slid to the ground in front of it, sitting cross legged and leaning toward the heat. He didn't take off his coat or the borrowed gloves and hat. She sat next to him, a good foot of space between them, and waited for him to say something, anything.
He'd been strangely quiet for the entire trip, pensive almost. Sometimes she'd catch him staring at her like he was trying to memorize her, and she wasn't quite able to shrug it off as just Lucifer being Lucifer. There was something unsettling in the intensity of his gaze. They were here to catch a killer, but she couldn't help but think they might also be here to mend their relationship.
She didn't know how she felt about that.
The silence stretched and grew like taffy. She was almost warm enough to get up and try to find a phone line by the time Lucifer handed her back her gloves and hat and shed his coat. Everything was uncomfortably damp, and warm, and either sticking to her skin or rubbing abrasively against it with every shift in weight. Next time, she was going to wear ski pants.
She stood, not bothering to gather up their gear to hang on the hook by the door. Bending over still seemed like a bad plan. In the kitchen, hanging on the wall, was an old rotary telephone. She picked up the receiver, surprised to be greeted by the dial-tone. So, she called the Tahoe police station and explained what had happened as briefly as she could: car accident, snowstorm, cabin, please come get us.
When the lieutenant on the other end asked how well-stocked the cabin was, her stomach started to sink.
"Probably enough for a few days," she said, glancing to Lucifer, who was still staring into the fire. She wasn't sure if she should be worried about him, or if she should be angry that he had forced her out here and was now giving her the cold shoulder. She wanted to lie, to say that there wasn't any food or not enough to last more than a day, but that could put good officers in danger if they tried to come out in the storm, and she couldn't do that.
"It's this storm, you see. It's not supposed to blow over for a couple days. We should be able to come get you by Friday, though. I'm sure sharing a cabin with that partner of yours won't be a hardship."
Chloe glanced back to Lucifer again. "If you only knew," she muttered, and the lieutenant laughed. Her laugh was shrill and grating, unlike the rest of her, and for a moment Chloe thought that maybe someone else had grabbed the phone. Her head throbbed.
"Give us a call if there's an emergency," the Lieutenant was saying. "We'll try to get someone up there, but it's best if you just stay put for a few days."
"Understood," Chloe said, and hung up after sharing a pleasant goodbye. She went back to the fire and sat down next to Lucifer again, still a good foot of space between them. Even after everything, it felt almost unnatural to be sitting so far away from him.
"We're stuck here for a few days," she told him. "The storm's too bad for them to come out, but they said by Friday it should clear."
He nodded, and they lapsed into silence. Just when she was thinking that she had to say or do something to break the tension in the air, he spoke.
"I'm sorry," he said, quietly.
"Okay," she said slowly. There were so many things he could be apologizing for, but none that she would expect him to know that he needed to apologize for. "I appreciate it, but what exactly are you apologizing for?"
He closed his eyes, before opening them and turning to look at her. There was turmoil in his gaze, deep turmoil, and she had to squash the urge to try to comfort him. That wasn't who they were anymore.
"I told the new Lieutenant that I wouldn't go help these police unless you went too. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be stuck here." The "with me" went unsaid, but she could read it in his eyes.
She wasn't sure if she was angry that he had manipulated her into having to come, or if this was his way of reaching out and trying to fix their relationship. She wasn't sure if it could be fixed, but it would be nice of him to try.
"Why?" she asked. "I know you don't need my help finding a serial killer. You're perfectly capable of doing that on your own. Why would you insist I came along?"
Silence filled the air. Lucifer wasn't looking at her, which told her enough. Whatever his reason, it wasn't good and he didn't want to tell her. Fine. He didn't have to. She would end the conversation and go lay down.
She was on the verge of getting up when he finally said, "I suppose... I wanted one last hurrah before I left. A good memory to say goodbye with."
She stared at him. He was- "You're running away again?"
That answered the question of whether she wanted to mend bridges with him. Would she really be this... this furious if she didn't? Shouldn't she want him to go as far away from her as possible, what with him being the Devil and all?
"Excuse me?" he said, something else flaring in his eyes.
"I can't believe this," she said, anger flaring in hers. "Every time things get the tiniest bit hard, or intense, you- you-"
He stared at her, and she finally identified the look in his eyes. Fury. She should be scared. He was a being of immense power, and she should be terrified of him. And yet she just couldn't bring herself to fear him. Not anymore. At some point, without her realizing, the fear of what he meant had faded and been replaced with... not acceptance, but the knowledge that nothing she did could change the truth of the world.
"No," he said, and his voice was the calm of the ocean before a storm. "You don't get to do that, Chloe. You made it so very clear that I'm not welcome in your life. I understand, I do, but you don't get to judge my actions anymore. You don't get to decide that I'm running away when there's nothing tying me to LA anymore."
"No, you are running away." She let her anger crest into a bone deep fury. At him, at the universe, at God and the unfairness of the whole situation. "You can't just... dump all of this shit on my lap, and expect me to immediately be okay. You don't get to upend one of my- my- the fundamental truths my life is built on without-"
She stood up, arms crossed tight over her chest, her headache flaring behind her eyes and making spots dance in her vision.
"Without what? Without consequences? You think I don't know that?" He laughed, a hard, brittle thing. "I've taken enough punishment from you for being who I am. It's time to move on."
"Punishment? You think this is about punishment?" She scoffed, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. "I'm not punishing you, Lucifer. I'm trying to wrap my brain around a complete and utter change to my entire worldview. I couldn't do that with you around, reminding me all the time that everything was different now. This wasn't about you, not really. I needed space to... to sort everything out. Alone."
"That's not what friends do!" he yelled, then repeated, quieter, his voice firm, "That's not what friends do."
She clenched her teeth. That was part of the problem. "We were more than friends, Lucifer. Which just makes it worse. You betrayed-"
"You want to talk about betrayal? With me?"
"This isn't about your daddy issues." She gasped and covered her mouth, eyes wide.
He stared at her for a moment, then got up and walked out the door and into the snow, slamming it behind him.
She could feel tears prickling at her eyes and slumped down on the couch, head in her hands. How had that escalated so quickly? She just- She didn't want him to leave. She wanted him to be someone she could rely on to be there, someone who didn't run at the first sign of trouble. She wanted him to be the Lucifer she thought she knew, not this new and unfathomable being wearing her more-than-friend's face.
But that hadn't made it okay to say what she had said.
The snow was coming down harder when she glanced out the window, and she realized Lucifer had stormed out without his coat. When she was too full of worry to sit still, after he had been out there for so long she was certain he was a popsicle by now, she got up and went to the door. She hoped he hadn't wandered far, because if he got lost, there was no chance in Hell she'd be able to find him.
"Lucifer?" she called quietly, before noticing the glowing lit end of his cigarette just beyond the porch. "You should come back inside. You must be freezing."
"Did you mean it?" he asked before taking another drag.
"Did I what?" She had said a lot of things, things she meant and things that weren't fair.
"Did. You. Mean. It," he repeated, emphasizing each word. There was only one thing he could be talking about.
"No, of course I didn't mean it. I was angry. Am angry. Look, would you just come back inside, please?"
After a long moment of both of them shivering, she saw him sigh and extinguish the cigarette. He came toward her, and she backed away to let him in, staying out of range of the snow he was brushing off. As he brushed the white off his shoulders, she had a sudden thought.
"Don't you have wings?"
"I do." He eyed her suspiciously. She couldn't blame him for that, but she had to know.
"Can't you just fly out of here?"
He sighed again, and turned away, going to look at the small library of books on the far wall. "I'm not bloody Rudolph, now, am I?"
She snorted. "We both are right now," she said, trying to lighten the air, but her joke fell flat and she shifted uncomfortably by the door. She watched, as he picked out a book and sat on the far end of the couch, cracking it open and starting to read.
She sat on the opposite end of the couch, trying to enjoy the warmth of the fire. She had been distant from Lucifer this entire trip while they tried to work the case together, she knew that. She'd been absent from his life for months before that. She wasn't sure where to place the blame for the rift between them, or if that was even important. What she did know was that, now that she was alone with Lucifer, now that they weren't doing anything and she couldn't distract herself with work or Trixie, she wanted to mend it.
But she'd never been a very good seamstress.
That was the problem, wasn't it? She was great at creating rifts; just look at her and Dan. Sure, he had been the one to strike the final blow on their marriage, but she had been the one to ask for the separation in the first place. She was civil to Dan afterwards, sure, but it had been him doing all the rift mending. He was the reason they were something bordering on close friends now. She just... didn't know how to do this.
She glanced at Lucifer, then took out her phone and stared at it. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to ask Dan for advice. If only she had service.
No, she was going to have to do this on her own, and she had until Friday to do it. She turned off her phone in the meantime. Better to save battery now and have it available later, when they had signal again.
After a minute of staring into the fire, letting the image of flickering flames burn on her retinas until they danced for her even when she closed her eyes, she cautiously asked, "What are you reading?"
Lucifer silently turned the cover of the book toward her. It was in French.
"Oh," she said, and fell quiet, turning back to the flames.
That was always the problem, wasn't it? She couldn't just pretend that nothing had happened; her world had changed too much, and her words to Lucifer earlier had been too cutting. But she didn't know how to apologize when they were both in the wrong. It was one thing with Dan, and his easygoing affability. Lucifer? Lucifer was high-strung and stubborn and tenacious and unwilling to let things go when he felt truly wronged. And, okay, those last two were just synonyms for "stubborn" but they were what made him a good partner. They were what made him a good friend most of the time.
She thought that he would hold onto his anger just as tightly as she did hers. So as the more emotionally mature of the two, it was up to her to figure out how to fix this.
God- No, she was trying to get rid of all the casual blasphemy in her language. It was something she'd been doing almost unconsciously, as though a part of her knew that one day she'd forgive Lucifer and, when she did, she didn't want to be bringing up his family in any context unless he brought them up first. She knew he'd appreciate it, if he noticed at all.
She just wished that they could have an adult conversation, admit their mistakes, and move forward. She just wanted it to be easy like that. But nothing in life was ever that easy. Her dad always told her that good things come to those who work for them. And Lucifer... she was pretty sure Lucifer was worth the work.
The fire was starting to die down, so she got up and threw another log on it. They were in for a chilly night; there was no way they would be able to keep the fire going all night, unless one of them didn't sleep. Which might be possible, now that she was thinking about it. She had no idea if Lucifer actually slept, or if there was some sort of angel power that made it so he didn't need to sleep. And if there was, she didn't know if he still had it after his Fall. There were just so many unanswered questions that she couldn't bring herself to ask.
Linda would have a field day with all of this. She missed her friend, too, but after finding out she was in the know, the feeling of betrayal overwhelmed the friendship and Chloe had let it drift away. Ella still sometimes tried to get her to come to girl's night, but she had been able to successfully beg off every time. In retrospect, it probably wasn't fair of her to cut most of her friends out of her life just when she would have needed them most.
G- Damn, she had a lot of apologizing to do.
She glanced longingly at her cell, which was sitting on the arm of the couch. She was a person of action. Once she decided to do something, she wanted to do it immediately and get it over with. She wanted to fix things with Lucifer, she wanted to call Linda and apologize, she wanted to set up another girl's night and actually go to it.
She wanted and wanted and wanted, and none of it was going to come easy. But, she supposed that was what made it worth it.
Her head was killing her, and she cast a glance at the bed. It wouldn't be fair to ask Lucifer to take the couch, not with his lanky frame. But she wanted to lay down and just sleep her concussion away. She wanted to stop thinking for a while and let her brain go dark.
"You can take the bed," Lucifer said mildly, and she jumped, turning to face him. She thought she might have seen a wounded look on his face before he forced a thin smile. "I'm not going to sleep much anyway."
"Are you sure?" she asked. "The couch is-"
"I'm sure," he said quickly. "Goodnight, Detective."
When she glanced back at him as she climbed into the bed, he was hunched over and rubbing at his temples. She should have searched the cabin for advil, for both of them, and something to put over his head wound. She should get up and do it before sleeping, but her limbs were so heavy and her eyelids wanted to close. Before she could make a decision, she was asleep.
She woke up disoriented, the strange, lumpy bed and the soft glow from the coals in the fireplace throwing her back to the one camp-out she'd gone on with the Girl Scouts. For a minute, she was twelve again, and rebelling against her mother by being as much of a tomboy as possible. But the blanket on top of her was too warm for a sleeping bag, and the sound that woke her up — the chattering of teeth — wasn't something you heard on a camp-out unless someone was telling a spooky story
"Lucifer," she whispered into the dark. "Is that you?"
There was no answer. So she left her cozy comforter — a strangely luxurious one for such an awful bed — and crept over to the other side of the room. Lucifer was laying on the couch, curled up with his arms tucked in close to his chest, quietly shivering in his sleep.
"Lucifer," she said, crouching down to shake his shoulder gently. "Hey, wake up."
He awoke with a start, sitting up violently and almost sending her on her ass. He blinked down at her and looked around before seeming to orient himself and focusing back on her.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "What happened?"
"You're freezing, and there's only one blanket," she said. "Come share the bed."
"I couldn't-" he started, but she wasn't going to take no for an answer. It must have been 40 degrees in there with the fire burned down to embers, and she had the feeling Lucifer lived in LA because it was so hot all the time. He wasn't a creature made for cooler temperatures.
"Come on, get up," she said, standing and waiting for him to do the same.
"Bossy," he said, and they smiled at each other for a second before remembering that they weren't quite on speaking terms anymore. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe she shouldn't be offering to share a bed with him.
But she couldn't leave him to freeze.
She slid in close to the wall, and Lucifer hesitated a moment before sliding in after her. He kept to the edge of the bed, back facing her, and she kept to her edge. She had to stifle laughter as she realized they were only one step away from putting a line of pillows down the middle to make sure they each stayed on their separate sides. His tense back and the way he wasn't throwing any innuendo her way at all sobered her up quickly, though. She would have thought that she would've gotten at least one comment about finally getting her in bed. Instead, there was nothing.
It was so unlike him that she wondered, for a moment, if he was sick. But no, he wasn't sick. He just... was angry and hurt and yet again she wished there was a simple way to fix this.
She let herself slide back into sleep as she warmed up, and the next time she opened her eyes, it was to morning light filtering in through the trees. They had moved in the night, Lucifer now on his back in the center of the bed. She was curled up against his side, one arm slung across his waist, her head on his shoulder. He was going to have a dead arm when he woke up.
She took a moment to just watch him. His face held its tension even in sleep, the dark circles under his eyes more obvious up close and in the light. He looked... He looked tired. He looked worn out and tired, and she wasn't foolish enough to think that it was all because of her, but she couldn't stop herself from wondering.
She carefully raised her arm and slid away from him as he made a small, sad noise in the back of his throat. She froze for a second, making sure he was still asleep, before backing into the wall and letting him have the center of the bed for himself. She didn't want him to wake up and think she had been all over him in his sleep. She wasn't sure how that would go down, but she was sure that it wouldn't be pretty. Lucifer had a thing about bodily autonomy, and now that she knew who he really was, she completely understood.
There was no way she was getting out of the bed without waking him up, so she lay there and waited, not wanting to disturb him. She took the time to soak in his presence, to memorize every little detail about his face so that if — or was it when? — she couldn't salvage this, she would still have her memories.
Lucifer's eyelids started to flutter, and when he opened his eyes, a bright, sleepy smile slowly spread across his face. She couldn't help from smiling gently back as she stifled the urge to reach out and touch his cheek. His smile only lasted a second, though, before his face hardened and his eyes went empty.
She felt her own smile fade, but still said, "Good morning."
"Detective," he said, his voice flat, then rolled out of the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.
She slid into the warm spot he left, flopping on her back and starfishing out as she stared at the ceiling. Why couldn't thing just go back to normal? She wanted the old Lucifer back, she wanted their old relationship back, and she knew she couldn't have either. It wasn't Lucifer that had changed, it was her.
He was still the same person the day she found out that everything he said was true as the day before, it was just her knowledge that had changed. Everything had changed for her, and she had to rethink everything she thought she knew. And instead of giving her time to do that, he was just going to run away again?
She felt herself getting angry all over again. It wasn't fair that she had this life-changing pile of shit dropped in her lap, and he was the one acting like the injured party. He was the one expecting her to just get over it, like that was even possible. It would take years for her to get over it. It was just... such a big change. In everything.
"Bathroom's free," Lucifer said shortly and stalked over to the kitchen, beginning to rummage through the shelves. His hair — his curly hair — was a mess, and his stubble was already going from artful to homeless magician.
She tore her gaze away and forced herself out of the warm bed so she could go use the bathroom and get cleaned up as best as she could. By the time she came back out, Lucifer had moved to the couch again and there was a fire burning merrily in the fireplace. He was still reading the French book and didn't even look up when she went and sat down on the other end.
She wasn't hungry.
"I know you're angry with me," she said after a few quiet minutes of staring into the fire. "But, can we talk?"
She bit her lower lip while she waited for his answer. When he looked up, his gaze seemed to catch on her mouth before he met her gaze steadily. "What's there to talk about?"
She couldn't stop or hide the full-body flinch that when through her at his words. There was so much they needed to talk about, but it only mattered if he was planning on staying in LA. If he was leaving... well, nothing she did or said would matter. There was nothing to talk about. And she wasn't sure that she wanted to operate on the premise that he was going to be gone soon.
"A lot," she told him. "And that's just talking about us-"
"There is no us," he said, his voice sharp and dripping with bitterness. She wanted to reach across the divide between them and fold him up, hug him tight until he understood that it had never been about him.
"I don't think that's true," she said slowly, and wasn't sure if she was telling the truth or if she just hoped it wasn't true. "Otherwise I wouldn't be here."
"You're right, you wouldn't," he said. "And neither would I. I'd be able to fly out of this pit and be home, relaxing where it's warm and comfortable and not-" He stopped, and took a breath.
"You don't have to stay," she said quietly, blinking back tears. She wouldn't keep him, not if he really wanted to go. Wasn't that what you were supposed to do? If you loved someone, set them free? "If you can leave, you should."
He stood and, for one awful moment, she thought he was actually going to do it. A few tears escaped, burning a path down her cheeks before she angrily dashed them away. She was going to be devastated if he left, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing — or hearing — her cry over it.
A piece of cloth dropped in her lap and she realized he had just gotten up to grab his handkerchief for her. She gratefully dabbed her eyes with it as he sat down again.
"Can we please talk?" she asked again. "About us?"
"There's nothing to talk about," he said, and when she was about to protest, he added, darkly, "Not anymore, and maybe there never was."
She gaped at him. "How can you say that?" Hurt had flooded her system, washing over her in a wave. If he truly didn't view them as an us, well... she could see it. It would explain a lot of things. It would explain all the times she got close to him and he ran away, all the times she thought they were getting somewhere and then they just... weren't.
"How can I say that?" he asked and repeated it, anger rising in his voice, "How can I say that? I wasn't the one who went and got... involved with someone else."
"Inv-" Was he seriously complaining about Cain? What did it matter if she had "got involved" with him, given the spectacular flames that had died in? "Are you kidding me right now? You slept with-"
"But none of them mattered." He was almost shouting — not quite, but almost — but when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. "None of them mattered, not like you did. No one ever-" He bit off the words before he could finish the sentence, but she had an inkling about what he was going to say.
"Oh, Lucifer," she said. She desperately wanted to reach out to him, comfort him in some way and reassure him that she was still there. That she might have gotten lost for a while, but she would always be right there in the end. She would keep coming back to him.
But she couldn't. He pointedly turned away from her and went back to reading the book. She watched him silently for a while as he read, long enough to realize he wasn't turning the page.
"I'm not sorry," she finally said, needing to get that out there before everything else. "I needed time to process, and I couldn't do that around you."
He snorted, not looking up from the book. She made an aborted movement to touch his arm, habit getting the better of her before she stopped it. She never realized how much she touched him until she couldn't anymore.
"I'm serious, Lucifer," she said. "I needed time. But I am sorry about what I said yesterday. Your daddy issues are... completely understandable and reasonable, given the circumstances."
"Thank you ever so much for approving of my "daddy issues"," Detective," he said dryly.
Chloe bit her lip to keep from snapping at him. She was trying to fix this, not make it worse. She tried to think of what Linda would have her do; what would her advice be? She had no idea. Maybe something simple?
"You're right," she said. "I'm sorry."
She got up and moved to the bookcase. She may as well read while she tried to figure out what to do next. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since lunch the day before. So she veered off and into the kitchen area to find some food.
There wasn't anything that looked appetizing, and she wasn't sure if her Girl Scout camping trip had taught her enough that she would be able to cook something over the fire. Instead, she found a spoon and popped open a tin of baked beans. They would have to do.
"Do you want anything?" she asked Lucifer, pausing to wait for an answer.
"No thank you," he said and turned a page in the book.
She sighed and stood there, eating her sad tin of beans. They sat heavy in her stomach, and she regretted eating them as soon as she was done. She cast around for something to do that wasn't sitting there, reading with Lucifer. The fire was burning brightly, but they were out of wood, so she went over and started to pull her coat on. Maybe Lucifer would appreciate her absence. She could take a walk in the snow or something.
"What are you doing?" Lucifer asked, sounding equal parts disinterested and anxious. She looked over to see he was watching her, the worry more obvious in his eyes than in his voice. Maybe this was salvageable after all.
"Just to get more wood," she said. "Maybe take a walk, so you can have some time alone."
"I never wanted-" he said, but stopped himself from continuing. She would dearly love to know how he was going to finish that sentence. When it became clear he wasn't going to say anything else, she nodded and smiled sadly at him.
"I'll be back in a bit," she said and went out the door.
The sunlight, bright against the snow, made the headache that had been lying in wait come back full force. She almost turned around and went back in. But the thought of sitting there, with Lucifer doing his best to ignore her, had her squaring her shoulders and setting out. She'd go on a quick walk while it wasn't snowing, and then she'd try to talk to Lucifer again.
It was a good plan. It was a solid plan. It lasted long enough for her to find a ridge after fifteen minutes of wandering through the woods.
She kept her mind as blank as possible as she walked, just taking in her surroundings. The mountain was beautiful in the snow, the blanket of white making everything look so crisp and clear. Her dad used to read her a book when she was little, about a sick girl and a boat made of ice and a land where snowflakes always fell. Being on the mountain, surrounded by so much snow, reminded her of that book, and for a moment she missed her dad with a fierceness that stole her breath away.
He would have hated Lucifer just as much as her mother loved him. But she knew, without a doubt, that if she had been able to call him, he would know what she should do. And he would help her, because all he'd ever wanted was for her to be happy.
Instead, she was standing by a ridge, watching the snow start to fall heavy around her.
Before the snow could get heavy enough that it would fill in her footprints, she turned to go back. As the snowfall grew in speed and thickness, and started to fill her footprints faster, she started to hurry. She had enough time to make it back to the cabin; she wasn't that far away.
But the snow was coming down fast and hard, and her footprints were gone, and she knew she should have reached the cabin already. The smart thing to do would be stop and wait out the storm, to figure out where she was when it was clear. So she stopped and leaned against the lee side of a tree.
There wasn't much to do besides stand there and be cold, so her thoughts kept returning to Lucifer. If she could take it all back, she would. Every mean thing she said, every minute she spent avoiding him, all of it. Instead of cutting them out of her life, she should have talked to Linda and Maze, so she could understand more.
She had handled the whole thing poorly. She had needed time, and space, but in the soft muffling of the snow, she could admit that she hadn't needed months of it. It had just... gotten easier to not talk to him the longer she went on. Her life was less complicated without him in it. She could pretend that everything was normal, that she could forget what she learned.
She could pretend that she wasn't lonely and it wasn't painful to be so alone.
She had no idea how long it had been, but the snow wasn't letting up and she was shivering while she stood there. She needed to get her blood pumping, to warm up a little, so she started to walk. She was fairly certain which direction the cabin was in, she just needed to walk until she found it.
So she walked. And walked. And tried not to think about Lucifer while also trying to come up with a speech that would make him forgive her. When she stumbled out into the open, the snow now deep enough to be a pain to walk through, she thought she had reached a clearing.
As she looked up and down, she realized it was the road. The one they had driven down. Somehow, she had missed the cabin entirely and ended up at the road. So she turned left, and started walking. She could only hope that was the right direction.
She walked, and walked, and thought about Lucifer instead of what was going to happen to her if she didn't find the cabin. If she walked and walked and ended up at their car or at the top of the mountain, or if it was a service road and not the main road. If she was still out there hours later and it got dark. She didn't even know how long she had been standing at that ridge, looking at the valley below.
If she froze to death out here, she hoped Lucifer wouldn't blame himself. He was so good at that, even with things that weren't his fault. It was one of the many things about him that made her want to both hug him and slap him upside the head real good. He was so important to her; how could he not see the value she saw in him?
Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she needed to make him see how much she valued him, and then he would stay. Then they could go back to what they were. Then she could kiss him and more, without the outside world interfering what felt like a hundred times.
Just as she was about to turn around and try the other direction, she saw a dark shape up ahead, its edges soft and undefined in the snow. There was a slight glow to it, and as she got closer she grinned. It was the cabin. Just in time, because she felt like she was about to collapse. Her legs were jelly from wading through the snow.
She clomped up the porch steps and stamped her boots, getting as much snow off them and her pants as possible. The heat when she opened the door was a revelation. As soon as she was inside, she shucked her jacket and bent down to untie her boots — the quicker she could get in front of the fire the better — and almost fell over as a wave of dizziness swamped her. She stilled until it passed, then kept unlacing her boots.
The hair on the back of her neck was prickling like someone was watching her. When she looked up, she realized Lucifer was stood, stock-still, in the middle of the room, staring at her with relief etched into every line of his face.
"Um, hi," she said through chattering teeth as she pulled off the first boot. "I got kinda lost."
"You got kind of-" he repeated, his voice strangled. In a flash he was beside her, pulling her into a tight hug. She still had one boot on, but she didn't care. She had missed this, so she squeezed him as tight as she could. As long as they were hugging, everything was fine between them. She wouldn't have to face the real world until they separated.
"You've been gone for hours," he said, his voice muffled by her hair. It hadn't felt that long, but she believed him. She was too cold for it not to be true. She snuggled closer to him, even though she was getting his rumpled shirt all wet. He was nice and warm.
"I thought-" he said, but cut himself off abruptly. She could guess what he had meant. He had thought she was dead, or gone. He thought she had left him behind and not just been caught by the storm.
She could feel the slight draft from the door as she stopped being focused on how warm Lucifer was. She shivered harder, and reluctantly pulled away from him so she could finish taking off her boot. Her pants were soaked through, heavy and sticking to her uncomfortably.
"Can we move over to the fire?" she said when she realized he was still standing there, watching her intently. "I'm freezing."
"Right, of course," he said, and stepped out of her way.
He trailed after her like a lost puppy, a comparison she was sure he would hate. When she collapsed down onto the ground in front of the fire, he folded himself down and sat next to her. The fire was warm along her front, but she still shivered. Her pants were wet and uncomfortable, and after seriously considering all the things that were likely to happen afterward, she stood and unbuttoned them.
"Not a word," she said to Lucifer as he stared at her, a mix of confusion, desire, and sadness on his face.
She let them fall and stepped out of them, trying not to feel embarrassed by the granny panties she was wearing. She laid her pants out in front of the fire, then sat down on the rug again, next to Lucifer. He was being strangely silent, and when she turned to look at him, he was staring intently into the fire.
As she watched him, he snuck a quick glance over to her before focusing on the fire again. It wasn't her face he was looking at. She swallowed, suddenly feeling more naked than just having her pants off deserved. She let her own focus return to the fire.
"I thought you were gone," he said suddenly, not looking at her. "I thought perhaps you'd found a ride somehow, and decided to go."
His quiet words stung, not because they were meant to be hurtful, but because he seemed to just accept them. To actually believe that she would do something like that to him.
"I wouldn't do that," she said. The tremors were slowly fading as she warmed up, but she took a risk and slid closer to him anyway. He looked surprised, and then, to her surprise, lifted his arm so she could lean against him.
"I would have deserved it," he said. "I haven't been treating you well. I... I don't want to leave on a sour note."
She deflated a little, and almost pulled away, but she couldn't make herself do it. "Oh," she said. "You're still leaving? I thought maybe..."
But no, it was a foolish thought. He had made plans, and had things to do elsewhere. Of course he was still leaving. They hadn't solved anything, had just yelled at each other and been mean and sulked. Nothing was resolved, and she felt foolish for thinking that it would be so easy.
"I can't-" he started, and broke off. Before beginning again, he took a deep breath. "I can't do this. I thought I could wait, let you... sort through everything, and then things would go back to normal. But you've made it quite clear that normal is over. I realize it's weak of me, but I can't stay here, knowing you're..." He paused, then gave a bitter laugh. "It doesn't matter. Yes, I'm still leaving. I don't want to be here if you're not here."
It took her a moment to puzzle out what he meant, but when she did, she wanted to cry. "Lucifer, I'm here now. It took me a while, but I promise you, I'm here now." She paused, afraid to ask her next question. "Is... Is it too late?"
"I don't know," he said, so quiet that his words were almost lost to the crackle of the fire.
"Oh," she said, soft and sad. She didn't try to pull away, but Lucifer's fingers tightened on her arm briefly before loosening, letting her escape if she wanted.
He was always doing that, never trying to tie her down, making sure she always had an escape route from him. For a long time, she had thought it meant that he wasn't interested, wasn't as invested as she was. It wasn't for a long time that she realized — and even then only because he told her — that it was because he didn't believe he was worthy of her.
He didn't know that it was the other way around. He could have anyone he wanted, and there was no way she could measure up to that. And yet... And yet he had still wanted her, and not because she was something he couldn't have. He had still wanted her, and she had fucked that up.
Maybe... maybe the way to fix this was to show him that she still did want him.
She shrugged his arm off her — a sadness settling heavy in the pit of her stomach at how quickly he let go — and rose up onto her knees, turning to him. He watched her warily, holding perfectly still as she reached out with one hand to touch his cheek. His stubble was rough against her fingers and she couldn't stop herself from swiping her thumb across his cheekbone.
His eyes had fluttered closed, like he was savoring her touch. Like he was trying to memorize it as much as she was memorizing the feeling of his warm skin under her hand.
She leaned forward, her other hand going to his shoulder, and pressed her lips against his.
For a moment, he responded, kissing her softly, sweetly, with a tenderness that made her gasp. The sound must have broke him out of the spell, because he put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away. Her eyes filled with tears when she saw the seriousness of his face.
"Chloe," he murmured, his thumbs sweeping across her collarbone. His voice broke when he said, "Don't do this."
"Don't do what?" she asked, hating how watery her voice sounded but unable to firm it up.
"Don't- Don't try to seduce me just to get me to stay," he said, his voice firm and final. He looked so, so sure that the only reason she would be kissing him now was out of desperation, and not because she's wanted to every time she saw him. Even when she was with Cain, seeing Lucifer, working with Lucifer, had sometimes been almost painful with how much she wanted him and how much she shouldn't.
"I'm not," she said, denying it even as she knew that it was kind of true. Would she be making a move now if it weren't for the fact that she desperately wanted him to stay?
"You are," he said, smiling gently at her, his eyes glassy.
"I'm not," she repeated, but sat back on her heels anyway. "I swear, Lucifer. Things have been messed up and I know the last year hasn't been great, But I never stopped wanting you, even when I thought I shouldn't." She smiled sadly. "Even when I was furious with you."
"And even when you were afraid of me, I suppose?" he said, clearly thinking he was calling her out on her lie, watching her sharply, waiting for her to lie to him.
She didn't flinch. The sadness in her stomach was growing, seeping through her body with every word he said. But she didn't flinch with the truth of his statement because it wasn't true.
"I was never afraid of you," she said, firm and meeting his gaze. "That was never the problem."
"Then why?" he asked, sounding broken and lost, the unaffected mask he was wearing breaking.
"I don't know how to explain it to you differently," she said. "You... You took a fundamental truth I believed in, and showed me it was wrong. It was wrong in a big, horrifying way, a way that could have consequences beyond anything I ever imagined.
"And instead of handling it like an adult, I-" she swallowed. "I thought that if I just ignored everything — everyone — involved, I could... forget. I could go back to normal. Out of sight, out of mind, right?" She gave a watery laugh, but Lucifer just watched her, his face hard. It was a look he hadn't ever turned on her before, and she pressed her lips together for a moment, trying to regain control of her desire to cry.
She looked upward, blinking rapidly to stop tears from falling as she said, "I guess... I guess I took it out on you. I think I wanted you to feel as- as lost as I did, and was self-centered enough to think removing myself would do it. And then it was just... easier to stay away."
She met his gaze evenly. "I'm sorry I did that to you, that that was my motivation. But I'm not sorry I took time to myself to try to make everything settle in my head. I- I needed that. Not as much time as I took, but I needed it."
He stayed silent, watching her. She kept herself focused on him even though she wanted to quail and shrink away from his unflinching gaze. Finally, he spoke.
"I understand. I suppose, were I you, I wouldn't have wanted to be around me either."
She sighed and shook her head. "No, Lucifer, that's not- I mean, it wasn't specifically you. I didn't want to be around you, or your brother, or even Linda. I wanted to go back to normal and I thought I could do that without all of you." Her bottom lip quivered, so she pressed her lips together until she stopped feeling so close to tears. "I was wrong about how much time I needed. Avoiding things doesn't fix anything."
He nodded. "Okay," he said, and sighed, a soft exhale of breath. "I don't... I don't know what to do," he finally admitted. "I don't want to be angry but I'm still angry."
"Okay," she said, echoing him. "I understand."
She tried to draw away, to go find somewhere to be in the single room where she didn't have to look at him, where she might have some illusion of privacy. She couldn't get space, but she could go sit on the bed maybe. Take a nap. But Lucifer reached out and caught her hands before she could get up.
"Did you mean it?" he asked, watching her with an intensity she had never seen from him before, echoing their conversation from yesterday.
"Which part?" she asked, wrapping her fingers around his.
"That you..." He swallowed. "That you never stopped wanting me."
"Of course," she said. "How could I stop? You're so..." she smiled. "You're my best friend. You're... G- Fuck, Lucifer, you're one of the most important people in my life." She took a breath and closed her eyes so she didn't have to see his reaction. "And I love you." She laughed a little, her voice cracking as she added, "I love you so much it's terrifying sometimes. I don't know what to do with it all because you don't-" She took a breath. "You don't seem to want it. Every time we- You just don't seem to want it."
She opened her eyes to see him staring at her, pure disbelief in his eyes.
"I..." his voice was raspy and he swallowed, hard. "I don't- I can't-"
When he stopped and didn't seem to be able to continue, she smiled sadly and let go of his hands. She shouldn't have hoped for anything different. He ran away from her feelings whenever they got too intense, and she should have taken the hint a long time ago. He wanted something easy, and they weren't easy. Nothing about them was easy.
"I get it," she said, turning away. "I know."
She should check to see if her jeans were dry. She should- She glanced to the window and saw it was still snowing. Okay, maybe not take a walk. A book. She should read a book. Anything to not be watching Lucifer, seeing his reaction to her heartfelt words.
Before she could move, Lucifer had jumped up and was in front of her. He tipped her face up and kissed her with an infinite tenderness that had her shivering with its intensity. His lips moved softly against hers, and she melted against him.
When he pulled back a little, he pressed his forehead to hers, their breath mingling in the tiny, warm space between them. He was breathing a little quicker. She could relate. A kiss had never filled her with the feeling of such love before. Of being cherished. Of being wanted.
"Lucifer..." she breathed, almost silently when she couldn't take the silence anymore. "What does this mean?"
"I don't know," he said, sounding torn and uncertain, wobbly and uneven. "I don't know."
"Okay," she said, even though it wasn't what she wanted to hear. "That's okay."
His hands were cupping her face, and she lifted her own to cover his, pressing them against her. He sighed, and pulled away from her. She let him go with reluctance, trying not to feel bereft as he stepped away.
He brought up his hands to his face, scrubbing them over it and running his fingers through his hair, turning away and her heart dropped. She knew he was about to tell her it was a mistake, that kissing her had been a mistake, and they couldn't do that.
"I-" he said and she braced herself. "I need to think," he said, glancing to her and then quickly averting his gaze.
She nodded to his back and stepped away. "I understand. Do you want me to..."
"No," he said quickly. "You stay here. I'll... I'll be back."
He shrugged on his jacket and she called after him, "Take my hat and gloves."
When he glanced back to her, nodding, her heart sunk further. His face was a blank mask, his feelings hidden behind it. He pulled them on and walked out the door, into the snow.
She tried to settle on the couch with a book about birding, but kept losing focus and glancing to the door, losing her place. It wasn't a very interesting book anyway.
It was tempting to turn her phone on, just to check the time. There was no clock in the cabin, and it felt like Lucifer had been gone for hours, even though it couldn't be true. Was this how he'd felt, waiting for her to come back for half the day? She gave up trying to read and stared at the door, waiting, the fire warm against her side and the snow a soothing visual backdrop.
She slowly drifted off into sleep.
Chloe woke up to someone running a hand through her hair. Her eyes fluttered open and she couldn't stop the soft smile from spreading on her face. Lucifer was crouched in front of her, watching her with a small, sad smile on his face.
"What's wrong?" she asked quietly, and he shook his head.
"Nothing," he said, the smile fading from his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"No, it's okay," she said, sitting up.
Her pants were probably dry by now. Lucifer looked slightly damp from the snow, his hair curling adorably, and he probably wanted to sit in front of the fire and dry off. When Lucifer stood and immediately bent down, kissing her, she squeaked in surprise and he immediately pulled back.
"No, no," she said, pulling him back down and kissing him firmly.
Once they broke apart, she sat up and motioned for him to sit down. She didn't want to ask — that sad smile on his face when she woke up told her more than his words ever could — but she couldn't help it. She needed to know.
"So," she said, biting her lip and smiling nervously. "Did your thinking go well?"
He was quiet for an unsettling length of time, staring into the fire. She would need to go get more wood soon and build it back up again. And then find something to eat that wasn't baked beans. There had to be something in the pantry. And she shouldn't be letting her nerves get in the way of listening.
When he finally spoke, it was quiet. "I'll stay. If that's why-" he cleared his throat. "I'll stay, you don't have to say you... that. You don't have to say that to get me to stay."
She would feel insulted if her heart weren't breaking for him. After everything they had been through together, how could he not believe that she loved him? How bleak must his life have been if his first conclusion was that if someone said they loved him, they were trying to manipulate him? Hadn't his parents ever-
No. Of course not. Because he didn't have regular parents. Which, she supposed, just made it worse.
"Detective?"
She realized she had been silent too long, based on the nerves in Lucifer's voice. When she glanced to him, it was clear he was braced for her to take it back. To say of course she was only trying to make him stay. As if the whole reason she wanted him to stay wasn't that she loved him beyond reason.
"I wouldn't do that to you- to anybody," she finally said.
"I'd understand if you did," he immediately said, still braced for her rejection. "It's perfectly fine, Detective."
She got up and moved in front of him, straddling him and bracing herself on his shoulders as she caught his gaze. A moment of self-consciousness had her pausing as she was suddenly very aware that only her thin panties separated her from being half-naked on top of him. But she shook it off and leaned back just a little so she could move her hands to cradle his face.
"I. Love. You." If there had been any doubt in her before, it was being eclipsed by the brightness filling her as she studied the light reflecting off his eyes. "I'm not trying to manipulate you into staying. If you decide after this that you still need to leave, I'll still love you. If you decide what I've done is unforgivable and you never want to see me again, I'll still love you. If you don't believe me, or you don't feel the same, or you get tired of me, it won't matter. I'll still love you."
"Chloe," he breathed out, his hands finally coming up and settling on her sides, holding her just as steady as his voice was not.
"I love you," she murmured. "And I'll keep telling you as long as you want me to."
She dropped a kiss on each of his eyelids, the tip of his nose, and finally his mouth. She kept it sweet and soft, as much as she wanted to turn it into something dirtier, letting him set the pace. In most of her dreams, the first time they had sex was fast and hard and more full of passion than tenderness.
This, though. This had her knees weak with the amount of feeling the quiet movement of his lips was imparting on her. He didn't deepen it until she parted her lips slightly, letting him in without him having to ask. She thought that maybe that was how it would be until he believed in her, believed that she wanted him.
She kissed him lazily, meeting him touch for touch. She thought she could kiss him forever, just melt there against him and let the world narrow down to nothing but his mouth and hers. The heat of the kiss began to rise almost without her noticing, and she wasn't sure which one of them had started it.
Soon, the warmth building in her became too much to ignore, and she broke away from him for just long enough to stand and draw him up too. When she started walking backward, leading them to the bed, Lucifer stopped kissing her, and she made a disgruntled noise that turned into a yelp and a laugh as he lifted her. She locked her legs around him and met his mouth again while cursing the clothing between them as the tip of his hard cock settled almost exactly where she wanted it.
He turned and fell backward onto the bed, landing with a thump that knocked their heads together. She started to laugh again, sitting up and rubbing her forehead. When she looked back down at him, he was staring up at her like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and he couldn't believe he was being allowed to touch her. She wanted to wipe that look off his face, to make him understand that he was allowed to touch whenever he wanted.
So she did.
When Chloe woke, the light outside was bright and the snow had stopped. She was cuddled up to Lucifer, and this time she didn't have to move. She smiled against his skin and pressed a soft kiss there. The fire had burned down to embers again and the air outside of their little cocoon of blankets was cold, and Lucifer was warm. So she snuggled in closer against him and pulled the blankets tighter around them.
If it was morning, that meant it was Friday, and their little bubble of privacy was going to be broken soon. She wasn't sure what was going to happen when it did. Would Lucifer regret everything? Would he decide to leave anyway, or act like nothing had happened, or tell her the night had been fun but he wasn't interested in anything more?
She shivered at the thought, a sudden chill filling her. If she had poured her emotions out to him and it had been for nothing, she wasn't sure what she was going to do.
"Cold?" Lucifer asked, bringing his other arm up and turning slightly on his side so he could hold her better against him, his eyes smiling down on her.
"Just dreading having to get up and restart the fire." She hadn't realized he was awake, and the words came out before she could think them over.
Lucifer's face shuttered and he pulled away slightly. "Please don't lie to me, Detective. If this was a mistake, or-"
"No!" she said, pushing herself up onto one elbow so she could look down at him. "No, of course not, not for me. I was just thinking about having to go back to the real world today."
"Ah," he said, and if anything, stiffened further and looked more removed from her than he had a second ago.
"What?" she asked, reaching up to touch his face. "What are you thinking?"
Before he could answer, she realized that she could hear the distant sound of people talking, and that it was getting closer.
"Shit," she said. "Clothes. Our ride is almost here."
She slid out of bed, hurriedly grabbing her bra from off the back of the couch and putting it on, and shimmying back into her shirt. Her jeans were still by the fire, nice and warm as she pulled them on. It took her a second to find her underwear, but when she saw it under the bed, she grabbed it and stuffed it into her pocket.
When she turned around, Lucifer was standing at the end of the bed, already dressed and looking bored even as he watched her pull her clothes on. It stung, until she looked closer and realized it wasn't boredom, it was detachment. Before she could go to him, there was a banging on the door.
Their rescuers bundled them out the door, down the road, and into a helicopter waiting in a clearing off the road. They promised someone would come back for the crashed car when the roads were clearer. Then they were in the helicopter and lifting off.
By the time they were back at the station, half the day had gone by. Lucifer had been acting standoffish ever since they were picked up by the helicopter, and it was starting to worry her. Had it just taken some time for it to set in that she loved him and he wanted no part of that? He hadn't touched her once since they got back to civilization, not even to get her attention.
So she made their excuses — which wasn't hard, given the precinct's lieutenant wanted them to take the rest of the day off — and grabbed his hand, pulling him after her, only to realize they no longer had a rental car. She stopped, turning, but one of the detectives was already offering them a lift to their hotel, which she gratefully accepted, Lucifer distressingly silent next to her all the while.
"We need to talk," she said as soon as the hotel room door was closed behind them, before Lucifer could escape to his bedroom in the suite.
Lucifer's jaw ticked, and she thought she caught a hint of desperation in his eyes as he said, "Perhaps it should wait until we both clean up."
No, she wanted this done with so if she needed to cry, she could do it in the shower and hopefully any puffiness would be attributed to her having the water too hot.
"No, we should do it now."
"Detective... If this is about last night, I completely understand if you no longer wish to-"
She cut him off with a strangled noise as she realized where he was going with it and said, "When are you going to stop doubting me? Do you need to ask me three times if I'm sure or something?" She didn't care that she was mixing her bible stories, she was just frustrated and exasperated.
He scowled at her, and she smiled sweetly at him. She stepped into his space and reached up to draw his head down, pressing a light kiss to his forehead before drawing him into a hug.
"I don't want you to feel trapped by... anything you said that you may not have meant," he said into her hair, his arms loose around her.
"I love you," she said in response, and he stiffened for a moment before relaxing against her, a heavy sigh blowing through her hair. He held her tighter against him, and she thought he might be trembling. Or maybe that was her. "I love you, and if you don't want that, it's okay, just tell me and I'll let you go. But if you do want me," she said quietly. "If you think someday you can love me back, then you need to stop doubting. Start putting your faith in us."
She wasn't sure if he had much experience with faith to begin with, and maybe telling him to put it in a divorcée in her thirties wasn't such a good idea. But she could hope that this wasn't going to blow up in their faces down the line. She could hope they weren't going to start fighting like her and Dan had, that she wasn't going to end up alone and unlovable.
Maybe she needed to have faith too.
"Alright," he said quietly, and pulled back to look her in the eye. "I can't promise anything — I've never been good at faith-" she huffed a little laugh at that and he smiled "-but I'll try."
"That's all I ask," she said and pulled him back down so she could kiss him again. They really needed showers, and a change of clothes, and there was a serial killer to catch, but in the moment, all she could focus on was him. When she pulled away from him, they were both panting and heat sparked in his eyes. He was going to stay, and she was in love, and they were going to be okay.
No, they were going to be amazing.
The End