Work Text:
“Do you think it is possible to be homesick for a place you never considered a home?” he asks timidly, not taking his eyes off her face, as if hers is the only opinion that matters, “to be homesick for a memory, or an idea?”
Chloe squeezes his fingers, and stares at the road; her eyes are clouding a little, and she blinks and nods.
“Yes,” she breathes, and squeezes his fingers again for good measure, “yes.”
Lucifer brings their entwined hands to his lips and presses a heated kiss to her skin.
For Arlome. Her words, not mine.