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Slowly releasing his wife’s hand as she slept in the hospital bed, Lucifer rose gracefully from the uncomfortable seat next to her, eyeing the tiny form in the bassinet on the other side.
It was strange to be standing over the swaddled infant, considering the child hadn’t fully existed in his father’s mind until a handful of hours before.
Obviously, the Devil had understood pregnancy and what the result of it all was; he wasn’t some naïve farm boy. But the gravity of the situation hadn’t exactly set in until Chloe had told him rather matter-of-factly between pushes, “If you don’t get over here, I’m going to rip your head off!” This wasn’t some far off notion of “there’s a baby”; this was his offspring.
Despite what his mother-in-law, brother, and therapist had insisted, he couldn’t discern the traits the boy had gotten from each of his parents. Honestly, he looked like any other newborn in the hospital, other than the thick, dark hair on his head. His features were clearly humanoid, but not defined. How had Penelope noted he had Lucifer’s nose or Amenadiel pointed out Chloe’s cheekbones?
All of it was mush.
Because babies were just piles of mush.
Glancing back at Chloe as she turned her head stiffly in sleep, he wondered if she saw it. Was he dense when it came to children? Probably a bit, if he was being honest with himself. Other than Trixie and Charlie, he could count the number of kids he’d spent more than an hour with on one hand.
And now he was supposed to be a father to one?
With his heart racing in his chest, Lucifer had a strong feeling of panic tightening in his belly. When Chloe had announced her pregnancy, he’d been surprised, but enjoyed her excitement. Throughout the grueling nine months, he’d done whatever she’d asked; how was he supposed to know what was right and wrong? He’d read the books she’d tossed at him, moved the furniture in the nursery half-a-dozen times to suit her whims, “baby-proofed” the entirety of their home to her exact specifications. He’d relished the half hour reprieve he would get every few nights going to pick up whatever she’d craved.
But that didn’t make him a father. His Father was God, all-knowing and all-powerful, yet He’d been a terrible father! The Devil was even less versed in child-rearing. How could he possibly be better when he had no one to look to for guidance?
A small squeak and the creature plaguing his thoughts opened his eyes…one at a time, getting used to the sensation. Chloe’s blue-gray gaze caught his without focus, the little body beginning to twitch beneath the blankets. He idly remembered Linda telling him that the blue might not stay; they could easily change.
Were human babies shape-shifters until a certain age?
Fearing the noises that could erupt from that tiny grimace, Lucifer looked around frantically; they provided nurses for this, didn’t they? Surely the staff would know what to do in this situation.
But it was late, and they were in a private room far from the desk the ancient woman would be manning at this point. If he left, it would be too late. The infant would definitely wake his slumbering, recovering mother.
And after the hellacious—pun not intended after her furious snarl at him earlier—labor, his warrior wife deserved nothing less than twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. At the very least. He’d have to remind himself to pick up things that would make their return to home more comfortable for her.
Yet, he froze before he reached for the squirming baby. It would be so easy to accidentally hurt the fragile little Nephilim; he weighed hardly seven pounds! Meanwhile, his father could crush the barrel of a gun with hardly a flex, hold back a truck, if he put his mind to it. How could he even be thinking of trying to lift the boy from the safety of his bassinet?!
When the small whimper escaped the baby’s lips, though, Lucifer moved with an instinct he didn’t know he possessed. In a blink, he was gingerly cradling the child to his chest, careful to keep the weight of his head in the palm of his hand.
Immediately, the miniscule bundle stopped wriggling, turning his body as much as he could into the Devil’s chest. That intense, if still unfocused, gaze met Lucifer’s once again, a tiny hand escaping the confines of the blankets, flexing open and closed against the fabric.
Slowly—must be careful—Lucifer placed the boy’s head in the crook of his arm, bringing his other hand to those miniature digits to gently rub his forefinger against the surprisingly dry skin. Perhaps I should bring him to the nurse to check on that, he thought errantly, tilting his head to examine the small human while striding towards the hallway.
Suddenly, his own finger was trapped in a surprisingly sturdy grip that barely rounded the extremity, his entire being freezing as he felt the almost rhythmic squeezes. He glanced back down to the squished face of his son and caught his breath. My son, he realized as the awesome weight of that settled into his mind.
-.-
In her exhausted daze, Chloe watched Lucifer’s well-tailored back as he stood just inside the doorway. She’d awoken to the beginnings of a cry from her newborn. She wanted to say that she wasn’t surprised to find Lucifer already bringing him to his chest, but she hadn’t been sure how her husband would react to the reality of a baby.
When she’d told him she was pregnant, she’d expected…more. Maybe she’d been waiting for him to panic or disappear. But he’d just watched her face for a little while before a happy smile spread across his. “That’s wonderful,” he’d said kindly.
At that moment, she’d gotten so excited. And it had only grown as he did everything she asked of him. Her husband was excited and they were going to have a baby and things were going to be normal.
But she’d noticed little things that she’d explained away as his inexperience with children. He hadn’t thought anything of hearing the heartbeat, blinking at her tears before squinting at the screen helplessly. There was also the baby shower Ella had thrown where he hadn’t seemed to be able to comprehend the size of the clothes. The topper had been when she’d told him the day before, “My water just broke,” and he’d offered her a towel and a bemused grin.
So, she’d worried. All through labor, it had sat in the back of her mind, the fear that he would disappear once he realized it was real, that they had a son. Luckily, once her epidural had kicked in, it was much easier to focus on the fact that he was just playing on his phone while she was trying to push out his kid, and she shouted at him.
That was the last thing she fully remembered up until now, watching Lucifer stand in the doorway, staring down at their son.
Chloe wondered briefly what was going through his mind but decided against asking. Instead, she murmured, “Bring him over here so I can hold him.”
Rigidly, Lucifer looked over his shoulder at her, and she immediately softened. “He’s so small,” he whispered in return before turning his attention back to their son. “I didn’t know they were always so small.”
She laughed a little, shifting to sit up against the pillows. “Did you think he’d just come out a toddler? Don’t you remember when you first met Charlie?” she joked as he slowly crossed to his chair next to her bed.
Not taking his eyes off the baby, the Devil muttered, “Charlie was hardly so fragile.”
Keeping quiet, Chloe reached out to give his arm a squeeze, smiling around a yawn as his gaze came to her. There was wonder, awe, shock, terror all warring within his eyes. She knew better than to say a word about as she drifted off to sleep, but she couldn’t help stifling a giggle.
The Devil is just a normal first-time dad.