Chapter Text
"Lucifer?" Chloe asked, her voice trembling, as she held onto the door jamb; it was the only thing holding her up.
The man in front of her was wrecked. It was the only word she could think of to describe him. Utterly wrecked. He was pale and his eyes were dark hollows and there was a light tremble to his hands. He was wild eyed for a moment before he seemed to focus on her and then he was drinking in the sight of her like a man dying in the desert.
She had dreams like this, every so often. Lucifer, showing up out of the blue, to tell her that he had fixed things so they could be together. Or a knock on the door and when she opened it, he was standing there looking like he'd never left. Dreams were he fought and bled and tore his way back to her. She had never expected it to happen in real life, had never dared allow herself to hope.
"Please be real," she breathed out, but couldn't make herself let go of the door jamb to reach out and touch him.
His mouth worked, and after a moment of silence that stretched out far too long, he rasped, "That's a favor I can grant for free, Detective."
She laughed, and then she started to cry.
Lucifer looked panicked for a moment, his hands fluttering like he didn't know what to do. But when she took a halting step forward, he was there to meet her. And when she wrapped her arms around him, he enfolded her in a tight hug, his face buried in her hair deep enough that she could feel it when tears started dripping from his eyes.
His shoulders were shaking with the force of his silent sobs, and hers weren't much better. It wasn't until she realized the neighbors were probably watching that she managed to pull away from him the slightest bit. The whining sound he made, abruptly cut off almost before it could begin, had her heart breaking.
"Inside," she said, sliding her hand down his arm to tangle her fingers with his. "Come inside."
He followed her, close on her heels, his grip on her hand tight like he was afraid she, herself, was a dream. Once they were inside and the door closed, she turned to him and tucked herself against his body, still clutching his hand in hers, not willing to let go.
She could feel him shaking against her as he wrapped his free arm around her and pulled her even closer, burying his face in her hair again but staying silent. That was okay; she would take silence. She would take anything she could get from him.
"Where's the urchin?" he rasped after a while of just standing there, holding each other. He was tense in her arms, but when she went to let go he just held her tighter with a barely audible, "please."
"She's with Dan," she said, settling against him and rubbing her hand up and down his back until he started to relax. "She'll be home tomorrow night."
He made a noise, somewhere between acknowledgment and a sob, and even that sounded rough. So she pulled back—just enough to force him to look at her, just enough to make it so she could see his face—but the broken sound he let out before visibly biting down on it hard had her regretting it.
So she quickly asked, "Do you need a drink, some food?"
She didn't want to let him go, and she would have to if he wanted either of those things. But it sounded like it hurt to talk, his voice ragged and dry, and she didn't want him hurting anymore. She didn't know what had happened while he'd been in Hell, but she knew it had to have been bad. It was Hell, after all.
"Just you," he said before loosening his grip and wobbling a little. He grimaced and closed his eyes—red-rimmed and still wet with tears—for a moment.
"Come sit down," she said and reluctantly took a step back, still not letting go of his hand. It wasn't that she was worried he'd disappear if she did, because that was ridiculous. Just...
He didn't look any happier to have her step away than she felt doing it. She led him to the couch, which he fairly collapsed onto, almost pulling her down on top of him. She understood the need to be close, to be able to feel that he was there. Her eyes had started welling with tears again as she stood there, taking him in.
The worst part was, beyond the general air of haggard exhaustion, he didn't look much different. His suit was maybe more worn than she was used to seeing, but the rest of him... If she hadn't known better, she'd think he had just had a particularly rough night. Not that he'd been in Hell for-
"How long was it?" she asked, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer. Her bottom lip was trembling, but she couldn't seem to stop it. "It's been two years. How long-"
He shook his head, and that told her everything. The tears spilled over again and she turned, sinking to sit next to him, letting go of his hand only to lean into him. He was still and stiff for a moment before he wrapped her in one arm, pulling her closer to him. She let one arm fall around his stomach, her fingers probably gripping too tight but she couldn't bring herself to care.
"I missed you," she said quietly, trying to stifle the sob that wanted to follow. "So much."
"I'm sorry," he said. "I should have-"
She shook her head and rested her fingers over his lips. "Don't. Just- Don't."
He nodded and she dropped her hand. His eyes were so tired, she almost wanted to ask him to come to bed with her. It was too early to sleep, though, and he surely had other things he wanted to check on. He had come to her first—she knew he had come to her first—but that didn't mean she was the only thing he needed. Or wanted.
When she looked up at him, he was looking down at her with such a sad expression that her breath caught in her throat. He was looking at her like he was going to have to say goodbye again, and she didn't know if she could handle that.
"What?" she asked. "What is it?"
He shook is head, though. "Nothing. Nothing you need worry about."
"Lucifer..." she said, biting her lip, her breath hitching on a quiet sob. "What's wrong?"
"I've missed you terribly, darling," he said and reached out to tuck away a bit of hair that had escaped her pony tail. "That's all."
She wasn't sure she was convinced. "Are- Are you leaving again?"
Thankfully, he shook his head firmly at that, and said, his voice so soft she could have missed it were the whole of her not focused on him, "I'll stay forever if only you'll let me."
"Of course," she said, reaching up and cupping his cheek with one hand, thumb sweeping across his cheekbone. "Anything."
"A dangerous thing to grant the Devil," he told her. His eyes were bright with tears again, so she moved her hand higher, letting her thumb swipe under his eyes to catch them as they fell.
"Anything," she repeated, and she meant it. She would give—would do—anything to keep him for as long as she could. If it meant something, if vows weren't breakable like glass, she would marry him on the spot, just to be sure. But she, more than anyone, knew how flimsy a marriage bond could be. And she, more than anyone, knew that it wouldn't mean anything to him.
He smiled at that, a small, tremulous thing, like he didn't quite believe what she was saying but appreciated the effort. She didn't think there was anything she could say to convince him, not in the moment, so she let her head rest against his shoulder again, holding him tight. He brought his other arm around hugging her to him, and she squirmed a little to get comfortable, but he immediately dropped his arm, his fist clenching on his thigh.
"No, no," she said, taking his hand and carefully, gently uncurling his fingers until she could bring it back to her. "Just getting comfortable. Please..."
The sigh he let out was a release of tension so great she thought he was going to deflate entirely with it. He hugged her to him again, and dropped his head down to rest on top of hers. He was trembling, she realized, but there was nothing she could do for him besides hold him tighter and whisper that it was okay, everything was going to be okay.
They stayed like that until it was dark outside and Chloe's stomach started to growl. With great reluctance, she sat up slightly, pulling the tiniest bit away from him and feeling guilty when he let out a cut off whimper. She wanted to stay there forever, but she was hungry and had work the next day and if she stayed for one second longer she was going to do something rash, like ask if he would stay with her there, in her house, forever.
"I need to make dinner," she said quietly, sighing with regret when he let her up and wishing he had maybe been more reluctant to let her go.
"I can-" he said, but she shook her head before he even offered.
"You look exhausted," she said with a half smile. "You should rest."
He frowned a little and trailed her to the kitchen, hovering near her while she put together a quick meal. She offered him some, but he declined with a sigh, checking the time.
"I-" A grimace passed over his face, there and gone almost before she could catch it. "I should check on Lux."
"Maze kept it running while you- In your absence," she said, biting back a plea for him not to go, to stay with her.
Silence grew between them before Lucifer nodded once, sharply, and turned on his heel. "I'll..."
She waited for him to finish with something reassuring, with telling her he'd be back, or he'd see her soon or something. But instead, he just shook his head a little before turning back to her, kissing her so swiftly she didn't have time to react, and disappearing out the door.
Her phone was buzzing. It was sometime either very early or very late, judging by how groggy she was, and her phone was buzzing. She had gone to bed early, not wanting to feel the unpleasant sensation of loss that having Lucifer back but not with her was causing. She shouldn't have let him go and talked herself out of calling him more than once before going to bed.
She flailed a bit to find it and answered with a sleepy and impatient, "'Lo? Dan?"
It wasn't Dan calling her about Trixie. There was a pause on the other side, then a great gulp of air, breath catching in the middle. She was immediately awake and alert, bringing the phone away from her ear just enough to check the phone number. Not one she recognized or was in her contacts.
"Detective?" she heard as she brought it back to her ear. Lucifer's voice was wavering, like Trixie's did when she woke up from a nightmare.
"Yeah," she said soothingly, every instinct in her telling her to get in the car and go to him. But if he wanted that—if he needed that—he would tell her, wouldn't he? "I'm here, it's okay, it's alright."
He took in another deep, shuddering breath while she murmured soothing nonsense to him as she relaxed back against her pillows. It was close to three in the morning when she checked, and her heart clenched. She almost offered to go to Lux, or told him to come to her. But before she could, he was apologizing.
"Apologies, Detective," he said. She could hear him swallow, his throat clicking. "I didn't mean to wake you. I just... needed to hear your voice. Sorry for the bother, I'll-"
"Hey, no," she said. "I don't mind. Nightmare?"
Another shuddering breath. "Something of the sort."
She hummed in acknowledgment and sympathy. "Do you want me to come over?"
"No, that's alright," he said and she could almost see him shaking his head at her with a fond smile. "It was just a silly dream. I'm a big Devil, you needn't worry about me."
She laughed at that. "Well I'm going to worry about you anyway, hope you don't mind."
There was silence on the other end, long enough for her to worry that she had said something wrong, that maybe he was trying to find a way to tell her that he didn't feel the same way about her anymore. That he didn't want her worry and care anymore. Her heart was in her throat when he finally answered.
"Thank you," he said, his voice soft and something close to awe in it. "I- Thank you. And I'm sorry for waking you. I should let you get your rest."
"I don't mind," she said again.
He didn't sound like he wanted to get off the phone, his words hesitant and his voice noticeably without anything indicating he wanted to get back to sleep. He thought he should stop bothering her, she knew, but she didn't think he wanted to. Her heart was calming at that, and she let the worry that he didn't want her slip away. She could worry about it some other time. For now, she could try to distract him.
"I have to work tomorrow," she continued, laying back down and getting comfortable. She was able to prop the phone up by her ear with her pillow, so she closed her eyes and snuggled into her blankets, imagining he was there with her. "Do you want to come?"
"I'd like that very much," he said, his voice warm and tinged with what she hoped wasn't relief. There was no need for him to feel relieved, of course she wanted him at work with her. Of course she didn't want to let him out of her sight. She had lost him for so long, and now that she had him back, of course she was afraid he would disappear if she left him for too long.
"Good," she said with a yarn. "Ella and everyone missed you. I told them you had to leave the country, but she still asks about you every so often."
He made a sound to indicate he was listening, but now he sounded as tired as she felt. She searched her brain for all the little things she had wanted to tell him over the years he was gone, everything she hadn't been able to, and started talking to him until her words became slower and slower, time between sentences drawing out as she slowly fell asleep to the sound of his breathing and quiet huffs of laughter.