Chapter Text
Thunder booms overhead, a tremendous, near-deafening crash that rumbles through the air, so loud that it feels as though it shakes the house to its very foundations.
Lucifer winces violently at the sudden, offensive noise, sending the cup he’d been holding plummeting to the floor and subsequently shattering into an irreparable mess of ceramic shards with a loud clatter. The tea that had been held within splashes, spilling everywhere. And it wouldn’t be so bad if not for the fact that it was Chloe’s favourite mug.
“Bollocks!” Lucifer exclaims. His heart still pounds hard in his chest from the shock, the rush of adrenaline that courses through his veins setting him on high alert. Squeezing his eyes closed, he takes a moment to breathe and calm his now ragged breaths.
“Lucifer?” Chloe’s voice comes, both concerned and curious, from upstairs. “Are you okay?”
His eyes snap open, taking in the mess at his feet. Is she going to be mad at him for breaking her favourite mug? “Fine!” he shouts back, a slight wobble in his voice that he curses himself for. “Everything’s fine!” he tries again, more confidently this time. Everything is fine. He can deal with this, maybe with superglue? Or better yet he can buy another mug exactly the same. Yes! And then Chloe never has to know about this, and it’ll save himself the embarrassment.
Quickly crouching, he reaches out with still shaking hands in an attempt to gather the pieces. He hears Chloe’s footsteps on the stairs and, trying to push the unwelcome wave of panic that washes over him away, increases the speed of his efforts.
He glances over his shoulder, craning his neck to see beyond the kitchen counter and spots her feet descending the stairs. Turning back to his task, he continues, carelessly grasping at a large, rather sharp piece of the mug.
“Lucifer?” Chloe calls out again, obviously on the bottom of the stairs and not spotting him on the floor behind the counter. “What happened? I thought I heard something smash.”
The piece he grabs turns out to indeed be sharp as it cuts into his finger and palm, piercing the flesh. He hisses, dropping the shard and squeezing his fist closed as streams of scarlet red run along his skin and drip to the floor.
“Lucifer?”
Doing his best to ignore the pain, he jumps to his feet, plastering a smile on his face and hides his injured hand behind his back. “Yes Love?” he asks, trying to be nonchalant, but knowing he’s probably failing.
She stands on the other side of the breakfast bar, arms crossed over her chest. “Everything okay?” she asks again, concern set deep in her features.
“Yes,” he replies, feigning innocence with a weak smile. “Everything’s just peachy.”
She arches an eyebrow at him, her disbelief very clearly evident. He widens his smile in an effort to convince her, but she still doesn’t seem to be buying it. Slowly, she starts the walk around the counter and, fast thinking as always, Lucifer steps forward, obstructing her view of the mess.
Frowning, she tries to look behind him, but he stops her, placing his uninjured hand on her shoulder. She looks up at him, narrowing her eyes. “What’ve you done?” she asks, still trying to look behind him. Then, noticing that he’s holding one hand behind his back, she asks, “And what are you hiding?”
“It’s nothing! Really I—” he tries to protest as she removes his hand from her shoulder and pushes her way past him.
When she sees the mess on the floor, she falls silent for a moment. Probably formulating whatever telling off she’s about to give him. She turns back to look at him.
He averts his gaze, shifting awkwardly on the spot, awaiting the inevitable reprimanding. Only it doesn’t come.
She reaches out, taking his face in her hand, her thumb brushing over his stubble as she gently guides his gaze back to her. “You thought I was gonna be mad at you?” she asks softly, her vibrant blue eyes twinkling in the light.
He swallows hard, desperately trying to clear the lump that has formed in his throat, and nods, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement. “I thought that…” he starts, voice rough, “maybe—” He pauses, taking a steadying breath. Chloe waits patiently for him to continue. He struggles to find the words to express the chaotic whirlwind of emotions that rages within him. He’d thought that— He doesn’t know what he’d thought. He’d just panicked.
He presses his lips into a grim, almost trembling line, and searches her gaze for something. He finds it immediately, that understanding that she has with him, that love. The thing that tells him he can talk to her. That he’s safe with her.
“I don’t know, I just…” sighing, he deflates, “panicked.”
Her face softens. “Oh Luce,” she strokes her fingers over his cheek in, what is actually, quite a soothing motion, “I’m not mad at you.”
He finds himself able to relax slightly under her tender touch and feels bereft when she eventually pulls away, turning to examine the mess further. She turns back to him a moment later, worry once again creasing her beautiful face.
“Did you cut yourself?” she asks, clearly having noticed the spots of scarlet that speckle the floor. She holds out her hand to him. “Let me see.”
It isn’t a question and he obeys, knowing that she’s only looking out for him.
He hesitantly offers his still clenched fist to her. She takes it in her hand, gently prising his now bloody fingers free and quietly scrutinizing the gash that mars his palm and forefinger.
She looks back up to him, her eyes alight with concern. “Why didn’t you say something?”
All he can offer in response is a sheepish half shrug
She searches his eyes for a moment longer before sighing. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”
He nods and allows himself to be led to the breakfast bar and guided into a seat. She leaves him a moment, retrieving the first aid kit and a clean cloth from the cupboard below the sink.
Rain pummels the window, as it has done for the past hour, filling the air with a somewhat soothing, repetitive rhythm. Wind howls, whipping branches and leaves about, whistling as it rushes past the crack beneath the door. It’s an unusually stormy evening in Los Angeles and, if the forecasts are anything to go by, it looks like the city has a gloomy few days ahead of it.
She returns a second later, the cloth now damp. A soft smile graces her lips as she carefully takes his hand once again.
Lightning flashes, illuminating the room, momentarily blinding him. Another crack of thunder inevitably follows seconds later causing him to flinch yet again, as much as he tries not to.
Realisation seems to wash over Chloe’s features as she sees his reaction. “The thunder…” she says slowly, as if it’s something she should have realised before. “That’s why you dropped the mug?”
He nods, feeling rather embarrassed. It’s difficult for him to admit, but he no longer seems to be able to deal with loud and sudden noises. Not since he’d developed PTSD. He finds himself almost jumping out of his skin at the most mundane of things, like the toaster popping. It’s really quite pathetic.
So naturally, thunder is the last thing he feels like dealing with. There’s no way he’s going to get rid of the feeling of unrest that’s settled deep within his bones while the storm still rages on outside.
“It’s too loud, huh?” Chloe says idly as she gently takes the damp cloth and wipes the blood from his hand with that oh so careful touch of hers.
By now she’s become quite adept at picking up on his emotions, especially when he’s, as she calls it, ‘struggling with himself’. That’s probably why she doesn’t pursue her line of questioning any further.
He jumps again as lightning strikes and thunder rips through the relative silence, leaving him even more tense. She looks concerned but continues her task, leaving him to mull in his silence.
When she’s done, she takes a fresh, white bandage and wraps it around his palm. He stares at it for a moment, squeezing his hand closed before opening it again, wincing a little at the sting of pain that the motion causes.
After she’s put the first aid kit away, she comes to him, settling herself between his slightly parted legs where he sits and takes his uninjured hand in her own. She squeezes it slightly, a reassuring touch that momentarily grounds him before he finds himself startled once again by the ceaseless thunder.
“Can I do anything?” she asks.
He appreciates the offer, but he can’t see anything that can be done to remedy this situation. Besides, the support she offers him is more than enough to get him through what is bound to be a rocky few days. He finds it in himself to give her a small smile. “Not unless you can control the weather, my love.”
“I can’t…” she says slowly, getting that look on her face that she does when she gets an idea, “but I do have an idea. Will you be okay with Trix if I go out for a half hour?”
He blinks at her, frowning. “I’m sure I’ll manage,” he pauses a second, “why?”
She just smiles back at him before leaning in to press a kiss to his temple, wrapping one arm around him and letting her fingers roam up his neck and into his hair. “You’ll see. I’ll be as quick as I can,” she says, still smiling as she pulls away (much to his disappointment) and grabs her keys, heading for the door. “I love you,” she pauses to say before she leaves, not even bothering to stop long enough to put her jacket on despite the rain.
He just sits there watching the space where she just was, wondering what has just happened. A moment passes before he realises that they’d never cleaned up the shattered remains of the cup that now decorates the kitchen floor. Rising from his seat, he decides to fix that.
It’s a somewhat difficult and arduous task, what with one hand bandaged and still painful to move and the other shaking to an irritating degree. It certainly doesn’t help that he drops the pieces several more times as the thunder startles him again and again, only serving to worsen his already frayed nerves. He gets there eventually though, clearing up all the bits and wiping up the tea until he’s satisfied that the floor is clean.
He looks at the clock. It’s only ten minutes since Chloe left. The storm still rages on outside, seemingly only growing in its ferocity. The thought of Chloe out in this weather suddenly sends his anxiety skyrocketing. What if something happens? What if—
It suddenly feels like his mind is filled with too many thoughts. They race so fast that he can’t seem to filter out one from another. He squeezes his eyes closed, desperately trying to focus on taking one deep breath after another, but thunder booms once again, making the task seem impossible.
Bugger this, he thinks to himself, grabbing one of his stress balls from the bowl that should contain keys but in reality, holds all the loose bits and bobs that have ended up in there by some means or another. He stomps over into the living room, squeezing the ball to within an inch of its life in his good hand, and retrieves his weighted blanket from where it lies over the back of the sofa.
Plonking himself down, he wraps the blanket around his shoulders. It immediately makes him feel more at ease. Not completely better, by any means, but it helps a little bit.
“Hey mom? What’s the Netflix password?” The Urchin emerges from her bedroom, staring down at her tablet as she calls for Chloe, completely oblivious to the fact that she isn’t here. Teenagers. Or is she still a child?
Lucifer frowns to himself a little at the thought. That’s probably something he’d have to ask Chloe, after all, when it comes to human offspring, he isn’t exactly an expert.
“She’s popped out,” he replies.
Trixie halts in her path, looking up at Lucifer, shock in her features like she hadn’t even realised he was there. “Oh.” She looks lost for a moment and then she asks, “Do you know the Netflix password?”
He shrugs his blanketed shoulders, continuing to squeeze the ball in his fist. “Afraid not.”
Lightning flashes in the distance, forking across the sky beyond the living room window, followed almost immediately by what must be the loudest bout of thunder yet.
He very almost jumps out of his skin, not able to stop himself.
Trixie stares at him for a moment before she arches one eyebrow, an expression that’s scarily similar to that of her mother’s. Her mouth opens, but words don’t come straight away. “Are you okay?” she finally asks. There’s a long pause and then she adds, “Do you need a hug?”
He could almost laugh at the question if he didn’t feel as though he was drowning. “No hugging, thank you very much,” he replies, trying his best to keep his tone light. “Who knows where those sticky mitts of yours have been.”
Her mouth downturns into a petulant glower. “I am not sticky!”
“The state of my Armani would suggest otherwise,” he quips.
“That was an accident! I already said s—” she stops talking when another, particularly loud crash of thunder fills the air with a flash of lightning accompanying it.
He jumps again, and automatically squeezes his eyes shut to fend off the wave of anxiety that it brings.
“You’re scared of the thunder?” her voice comes, smaller and softer than it had been a moment ago.
He cracks one eye open, feeling his cheeks redden. “It’s rather loud, that’s all,” he confesses, averting his gaze from hers.
He expects her to laugh at him, but to his surprise, she doesn’t. The sofa beside him dips as she sits down next to him. “You know I was afraid of storms when I was a kid too?” she says softly, with far too much compassion and understanding in her voice for an Urchin of her age. “There was this thing me and my dad would do, and it always made me feel better.”
Slowly, he lifts his chin to meet her gaze.
“We can do it too,” she says, smiling softly as she reaches out to gently grab his hand. “Come on!” She rises from her seat in a burst of that childish enthusiasm that usually makes her so annoying, dragging him along with her.
~
Half an hour later, Chloe comes through the door, her top all but soaked, save for one patch at the front, just from walking from the car.
She takes a second to breathe as she enters the apartment, to bask in the relief of escaping the ongoing downpour. Her clothes are slick and stick to her skin uncomfortably. She probably should’ve worn a jacket, but she already felt bad about leaving Lucifer at home alone with Trixie when he was clearly not feeling his best. Getting in and out quickly to get what she needed seemed like the best solution. She just hopes he’s alright.
He seemed really shaken up by the storm. Maybe she should have thought about this before, but it’s just so hard to predict what’s going to set him off….
But she’s back now, and, hopefully, has a solution for their problem.
Sliding her boots off and leaving them by the door, she wrings her hands around the small, black rectangular box, and walks into the living room.
“Lucif—”
What the hell? She stops short, mouth agape, as she takes in the sight before her.
The living room is now a… a tent? White sheets and various blankets are draped over the furniture, making the space virtually unrecognisable. A slightly open slit between what must be the couch and the coffee table seems to serve as an entrance to… whatever this is.
She walks over, crouching down to try and see inside. Trixie’s voice can be heard through the thin sheets.
“Hello?” Chloe asks, stopping at the ‘door’. “Is someone in there?”
“Hello, Love,” Lucifer’s smooth accented voice comes from beyond the white sheet. “Come in.”
“No!” Trixie’s voice comes again, followed by, “she doesn’t know the password,” in a hushed tone.
There’s a pause.
“Why do we—” Lucifer starts in his normal speaking voice and then cuts himself off when Trixie shushes him. “Right,” he whispers (even though Chloe can still hear everything they’re saying), “sorry. Why do we need a password?”
“To protect the den—
“Fortress,” Lucifer interrupts, correcting her.
“To protect the fortress, and the snacks. What if she’s an intruder come to steal our stuff?”
Chloe stands there, listening with an amused smile on her face as the two confer conspiratorially. “Can I come in please?” she finally asks, laughing to herself.
“What’s the password?” Trixie replies.
“I don’t know,” Chloe admits, but she hasn’t given up. She has a trick up her sleeve. “But I have chocolate cake,” she adds.
Well… the trick may be bribery, and technically the cake was supposed to be for after dinner, but oh well. Live and let live.
Trixie’s face suddenly bursts through the ‘door’ of the little makeshift den, alight with the joy that can only be associated with a child promised, a most likely questionable amount of, sugar. “You do?!” she squeals, vibrating with youthful, ecstatic energy.
“Uh-huh,” Chloe responds with a fond little smile. “In the fridge, beneath the vegetables.” (She’d hidden it there yesterday. Usually Trix would have found it by now but it would seem that she hasn’t gone looking today yet.)
Trixie shoots past her in a blur like motion, making a beeline straight for the kitchen.
“Bring it back, please! It’s to share,” Chloe calls after her, not doubting for a moment her daughter’s ability to devour an entire cake all by herself.
She chuckles and ducks into the now unguarded den entrance. It’s surprisingly cosy inside. Pillows litter the floor, making for an almost nest-like feeling. The ‘roof’ is low, making it necessary to crawl on her hands and knees in order to not destroy the thing in Godzilla like fashion, but once she gets in and parks herself on a cushion, it’s actually pretty comfy. A string of multicoloured fairy lights wrapped around the supporting furniture gives the place a cosy, homely feel.
Lucifer sits cross-legged in a pile of what must be a least a dozen pillows, his blanket is wrapped around his shoulders, and, to her relief, he actually looks somewhat more relaxed than when she’d left him. Bound in a blanket with his hair adorably mused, she has an urge to just bundle him up in her arms and never let go. She resists though, for now…. Instead she shifts on her small pile of pillows, moving a little closer to him, just in case.
An open packet of chips lays on the floor at the side of the little area, accompanied by an array of candy bars and various other sugary treats. There’s also a pile of empty wrappers that’s just a tad too big for Chloe’s liking. Maybe Chocolate cake isn’t such a good idea, but what’s done is done.
“Hey,” she says softly to Lucifer. “I like your…” she trails off, gesturing vaguely to their surroundings as she searches for the right words, eventually settling on, “nest thingy.”
“It is not a nest,” he grumbles, pulling his blanket a little tighter around himself. “It’s a fortress.”
She can’t help but laugh a little bit at the way he pouts like a petulant child. “Well, either way, I like it.” She points to the ‘roof’. “The lights are a nice touch.”
He looks at the floor but a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you.” He lifts his gaze to meet hers. “It would seem that the little Urchin has quite a bit of experience in this area.”
“Yeah.” She chews on her lip, looking down at the box that sits in her lap. She feels a bit silly. He seems happy enough now and so her trip out was probably unnecessary. “I think it’s something her and Dan used to do,” she explains, making idle chitchat, skirting around what she actually wants to talk about.
Lucifer hums in interest and then they both fall silent. The storm outside seems to be settling down for now, rain still falls but the thunder rumbles only quietly in the distance now. Hopefully it stays that way, though the forecasts on the radio on the way home suggested otherwise.
“How are you feeling now?” she braves the question.
He seems to think about it for a few moments. She can’t help but notice he’s squeezing a stress ball in his unbandaged hand.
“A bit better,” he finally answers and then, with a sheepish shrug, adds, “This helped take my mind off it.”
Pride blossoms within her at the words. Her little monkey helping Lucifer, and of course, for him. All the progress he’s made in the past few months, no matter how difficult it’s gotten.
She shuffles until she’s sat beside him, their legs touching, and wraps one arm around his shoulders. He melts into her embrace, pulling himself closer and shifting until his head is resting comfortably on her shoulder. She presses a kiss to the top of his head, his unruly, black hair tickling her nose as she does.
“I’m glad,” she says softly. His eyes flutter closed, and he seems at peace there, in her arms. Truthfully so does she. “I guess it’s a bit late now, but….” She turns the box over in her free hand. “I got you these.”
His eyes open and he lifts his head, his curious gaze looking first to the box and then to her. “What is it?” he asks, taking it from her hand, already starting to pull the packaging apart.
“Well I thought they’d help with the thunder,” she says quickly as he opens the box and frowns, “and other loud noises… you know, if you’re ever feeling a bit… overwhelmed.” She pauses, carefully studying his reaction. “And I would’ve gotten them for you sooner, but I didn’t realise you were struggling so much.”
His frown deepens and he straightens to look at her more directly. “Headphones?”
“Uh-huh.” She worries her lips between her teeth, nodding. This was a stupid idea. She should have just asked him first. “They’re um…” she clears her throat nervously, “noise cancelling. I, uh, asked the guy at the store, he assured me that you won’t be able to hear the storm, or much of anything else with them in. And they’re soft so they shouldn’t be too uncomfortable if you want to wear them in bed.”
They weren’t exactly cheap, but she’d thought that if it helps him then it’s worth it, isn’t it? Maybe it’d just been a waste though, because now, she feels silly.
He looks at them for what seems like a long time, carefully examining the little black earpieces, and then he looks back to her. The fairy lights reflect in his dark eyes making them twinkle. “Thank you, Chloe,” he says, his voice suddenly raw. He swallows hard. “Truly, I… don’t know what to say.”
“You… you like them?” she asks hesitantly, still feeling unsure of herself.
“Yes! Of course I do.” His eyes glisten as he gazes at her with adoration in those dark depths. His lips part as if he’s going to say something, but words seem beyond him. He just melts back into her embrace, his head once more coming to rest on her shoulder. “I love you,” he whispers, “so much.”
She turns so that she can more thoroughly encompass him in her arms and rests her chin on top of his head. “I love you too,” she replies, putting as much love as she can in every word, “I really do.”
They stay like that for a long time. His eyes close and she can feel the subtle movements of his chest as he takes deep, even breaths. A part of her wishes they could stay like this for ever. Another knows that it never lasts. That doesn’t matter as long as they have each other though.
His eyes open and he shifts a little, looking up and out of the makeshift den. “The Urchin has been a long time with the chocolate cake,” he says suddenly.
A laugh bubbles up inside her and spills out of her mouth. He joins her with a low chuckle, filling the air with a joyous chorus.
“Trixie!” she manages to call out, despite her laughter. “You better not be eating the cake all by yourself!”
Trixie suddenly appears in the entrance to the den. Traces of chocolate icing smear her lips. “I’m not eating all of it,” she says with a cheeky grin as she passes the cake to her and all but throws herself down on another pile of pillows.
They all laugh together, and the rest of their evening is spent in their ‘fortress’, sharing chocolate cake and playing Monopoly.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, but it doesn’t disturb them in their little bubble. Their odd little family, huddled together, safe and sound.