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"Lucifer? Lucifer Morningstar?"
Lucifer's head shot up from where he was contemplating both his shoes and how long they were going to have to stand in this line before it was Beatrice's turn. A tall, raven-haired woman was staring at him, her piercing blue eyes wide with something close to shock. Elise; he remembered her. It had been a fun few nights, but not something special, for either of them.
"The one and only," he said with a dazzling smile for her. He ignored the curious look Beatrice was giving him, and the apprehensive one from the Detective. The last thing he wanted was to cause a scene, which could be a problem if he was wrong about the sex not being something special to her. He wanted to be focused on the Detective and her spawn, not talking to one of his past lovers in the middle of a mall. "How are you, Elise, dear?"
"Oh, you know," she said, casting an appraising look over the Detective and Beatrice that had his hackles rising. "And who's this?" she asked, and he wasn't sure whether she was talking about the Detective or the child.
"They're my-" he said and stopped himself short before continuing with "The Detective and her spawn."
The Detective cast him an amused look before stepping forward and holding out her hand. "Chloe. Nice to meet you."
"Elise. Likewise," Elise said, shaking her hand quickly, her eyes bright with something Lucifer didn't recognize, but wasn't sure he liked all the same. Before he could interrupt and get her moving on her way, she stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek, and whispered, "I'm happy for you," after she did.
He blinked at her, nonplussed. Happy for him about what? "Thank you?" he said.
The Detective's face was strangely expressionless as she watched the interplay between him and Elise. He wanted to tell her that whatever she was thinking was wrong, that he didn't want this to be happening right now either.
Still, it wouldn't do to be rude. "Next time you come by Lux, drinks are on the house," he told Elise, as an apology for his subsequent brush-off. "It was lovely to see you."
"Same to you," she said, and exchange a smile with the Detective, the Detective's much more tense than he would have liked. Then she was leaving and the Detective was turning to him, a conflicted look in her eyes.
"You can..." she said, nodding her head after Elise. Why would he want to go with Elise when he could be spending time with her? Didn't she know that? Had he not made it clear with his bargaining to spend time with her? Or had he been more subtle than he thought.
"Of course not," he opted to say. Her expression cleared with that and she graced him with a small smile. He wanted to reach out to her, to touch her cheek, commit the feel of her smile to memory so he could pull it up on cold nights to warm him. Instead, he just returned it with one of his own.
The mall at Christmas was both worse and not as bad as he had expected. He had been dreading the excursion since the night before, not quite willing to beg off but not so sure he wanted to go through with it. Pulling into the garage and parking, he found himself pausing before getting out. It wasn't too late to turn around, yet in some ways, it was. He didn't think he could turn and go, no matter how much he wanted to, not when the Detective was waiting for him.
Crowds usually parted in front of him, flowed around him, moved by his sheer presence alone. But he found himself having to squeeze through groups of people, saying "excuse me" more times in the ten minutes it took to get from the garage to the cafe than he had in the past year all together. It was so disconcerting, he almost hadn't reacted when Beatrice saw him and ran to give him a hug. He had patted her head absently, and there must have been something in his eyes — some sort of distress — because the Detective ran her hand down his arm, asking quietly if he was okay.
Of course he was okay. It was just a crowd. He was just slightly unnerved by the crush of people.
"Who was that lady?" Beatrice asked, drawing his attention back to her.
The Detective opened her mouth to reply but he was quicker. "Just someone who frequents Lux, spawn. She used to visit quite regularly."
"Is she your friend?"
He paused at that. The Detective's lips had thinned even though he thought he had been doing well with the answers, so he carefully said, "I suppose you could say that."
Of course, one could say anything. Whether or not what was said was true was another matter. But Beatrice seemed satisfied with the answer, and returned to trying to see around all the people in front of them and catch a glimpse of the fake Santa.
When he met the Detective's gaze, there was something in her eyes that he couldn't quite place, but it had his stomach sinking. He had done something wrong, something to put that almost defeated look in her eye, and he wasn't certain what. Which meant he didn't know what to do to fix it. He wondered if he should leave, let them continue their holiday without him.
He should, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wanted to be there with them, wanted in a way that was wholly new and wholly terrifying. The depths to which his desire to be with Chloe plunged were unfathomable, even for him. That he wanted to be with her and Beatrice in this crowded mall in the middle of the Christmas season waiting to see a fat old man in red was- It was-
They were standing close enough together that if he wanted — if she wanted — it would be so simple to take her hand. He just had to reach out. He couldn't talk himself into doing it, though, and when he let his pinky finger brush against her hand, she didn't react.
Of course she didn't react. Pathetic was the word he was looking for. All this wanting was pathetic when he knew it was something he could never have. He should have been happy with what he did have, and instead he wanted. That had always been his greatest sin and ultimate downfall.
They were getting near the front of the line, and Lucifer found his focus drawn to the man playing at being Santa. He was clearly far too young and the beard was barely hanging onto his face. Which was handsome and angular, a face Lucifer wouldn't mind seeing in his bed. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he cast a guilty look to the Detective, who wasn't paying attention.
Beatrice was, though, because she grabbed his hand and tugged until he shifted his attention to her with a jolt of panic at the fact that she was touching him and- Okay, her hands weren't sticky, but they could have been.
"Yes, spawn?" he asked, trying to shake her hand off. She just laughed like it was a fun game and held on tighter. The nerve!
"You don't need to worry," she said, and then whispered in a voice that was still loud enough for the people around them to hear, "He's not the real Santa."
A couple of the parents around him cast a dirty look their way, and he glared at them in return. If any of them were thinking about chastising her, they noticed his gaze and quickly looked away. Good.
"Where's the real Santa?" he asked, curious despite himself.
Beatrice looked at him like this was something with an obvious answer, a look he didn't appreciate. He supposed that meant the "real" Santa was at the North Pole, which was ridiculous. At the rate the Arctic was melting, there wouldn't be a North Pole for Santa to live on soon. But, he supposed stories didn't care about the reality of a situation. He was proof of that.
"The North Pole," she said. "This one brings all the present lists to the North Pole, but he doesn't know if you've been bad or good so you can ask for anything."
He didn't quite follow her logic, but nodded anyway. He glanced over to the Detective, his eyes drawn to her like a hellhound to the scent of an escaped soul. She was watching them, something close to fondness in her eyes and her lips curved in a small smile. When she met his gaze, the smile grew into something grateful, and he couldn't help but smile back.
Then they were at the front of the line and Beatrice was scampering over to sit in the man's lap. He could just hear the list of toys she was rattling off under the noise of the mall surrounding them. She went through what he assumed was a typical list for a child of her age, and he made note of a few things to get her if the Detective did not. The bicycle sounded especially promising.
The Detective looked to be concentrating on hearing what Beatrice was saying, so he kept quiet even though he wanted to tell her that he could provide her with a list after they left. Perhaps it was part of their ritual, this intent listening, and he didn't want to interrupt and insert himself into it.
He almost missed Beatrice whispering, "And I want Mom and Lucifer to stop being so sad."
His heart stuttered in his chest and he almost missed the look the Santa gave her before putting a jolly smile on for the camera. She wanted... She asked for... For Christmas. Was he sad? And how did she know? Did the Detective know?
His mind was whirling as one of the elves handed the picture to the Detective and told Beatrice to go back to her mom and dad. He had thought he was doing a good job of not letting the Detective know about his... his inner turmoil, but if Beatrice could see it...
He turned to look at the Detective, who was staring at him with a look half of amusement and half of worry on her face. "They didn't mean anything by it, you can stop freaking out now."
"What?" he asked as they walked away, bewildered. Chloe took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
"When they called you her dad," she said quietly, mindful of Beatrice up ahead. "They didn't mean anything by it."
"They-" he started, and replayed the last few minutes. "Oh." The Detective was still watching him as they walked, worry in her eyes, so he added, "It's alright, darling."
She smiled at him and squeezed his hand again. He squeezed back and she seemed to relax. It was- They had thought he was the urchin's father, and while he knew he didn't have any right to the label, would never have any right to the label, he let himself imagine it for just a moment. Before he met the Detective, before he had gotten to know Beatrice, he disliked children intensely. But now... He still disliked them in general, but the idea of... of being Beatrice's... The idea wasn't objectionable.
When Beatrice demanded they stop in the pet store, distracting him from his thoughts, he was almost relieved.
THE END