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Sniff.
Sniff.
Sniff.
Chloe glanced up from where she was cutting vegetables every time the snuffling sounded from across the room, punctuating the near silence of the condo at equal intervals like the ticking of an extraordinary slow clock. They were so regular, she had come to anticipate them now, the noise intermingling with the low hum of the television set and the randomized honking horns and yelling of children issuing from outside.
Sniff.
Sniff.
Sniff.
“Lucifer,” Chloe said, setting aside her knife as she transferred her newly cut carrots and celery stalks into a bowl, “try blowing your nose again. You can’t take anymore Mucinex until after dinner.”
The couch squeaked as Lucifer struggled to sit up from where he’d spent most of the day sprawled out. “I did. Nothing comes out anymore,” he whined, eyes wet and nose red. “And the Mucinex doesn’t bloody work!”
Chloe grimaced. For the last three days, this is what most of her life had consisted of, Lucifer complaining incessantly as he struggled through his first ever proper head cold. She should’ve known better than let him come over after Trixie had initially caught the cold from school. One of the downsides of Lucifer’s sporadic invulnerability seemed to be an especially weak immune system. He caught illnesses as easily as a child when she was around him, even with minimal contact, and while this time wasn’t quite as bad as the stomach bug debacle of last winter, it was ranking a very close second.
“That’s because your sinuses are swollen,” she explained patiently, well aware he had absolutely no idea about any of this. Apparently, head colds hadn’t been a common torture device in Hell because when Lucifer had first begun to feel unwell, he’d naturally jumped to the conclusion someone had poisoned him.
“But that’s stupid!” he exclaimed, flopping back down onto the couch. “Why would I produce more mucus if the passages are swelling closed? It makes no sense!”
It did, actually, but Chloe wasn’t interested in explaining it to him at the moment. When he was feeling better, she’d get him a picture book or something about common illnesses.
She moved her bowl of sliced vegetables to the medium pot she had on the stove. Dumping the contents of the bowl in, she returned to the cutting board and began to peel an onion. Making soup had a double benefit. Not only was it a relatively easy meal, she was also getting out her frustration with her boyfriend by chopping up ingredients - with perhaps more vigor than was strictly necessary.
She didn’t want to be cross with Lucifer but the fact of the matter was, he’d kept her up for the past three nights as he tossed, turned, and sniffled relentlessly. She was keenly aware he was equally sleep deprived, and she had thus far avoided saying about it. If she complained, he would move himself to the couch or the guest room for the night and she didn’t want him sleeping alone when he wasn’t feeling well. But still, she was running on fumes as it was and his constant sour mood wasn’t making things any easier.
Neither of them fully understood the intricacies of Lucifer’s invulnerability. They knew if he was injured and kept away from her, he would heal faster. But oddly enough, the same effect didn’t extend to illnesses. Once Lucifer caught something, he was stuck with it until it had passed through his system, like any other human. Even worse, medicine was only effective when Chloe was around, meaning they were chained together for the foreseeable future.
That wasn’t such a huge change from their previous living arrangement. Since they’d begun dating, Lucifer was almost always at her place - or she at his. But the seventy-three hours spent in close quarters was definitely taking its toll now.
Sniff.
Sniff.
Sniff.
“Lucifer, please. The tissues,” she said.
In response, Lucifer pointed at the end table, which was completely covered with crumpled tissues. He’d gone through two boxes already - and a nosebleed - and showed no signs of slowing down in the near future.
Chloe finished off the onions, adding them to her soup before setting the burner on low and leaving it to cook. Lucifer hadn’t exhibited much of an appetite since getting sick, but she hoped homemade chicken soup would be enough to tempt him. And if not, at least it was something Trixie liked.
She took a water bottle from the fridge, moving to set it down beside the couch next to the empty one Lucifer had finished earlier. As she did so, she studied him. Lucifer was dressed ridiculously casual for once, wearing an oversized grey hoodie and black sweatpants. He had originally been hesitant to forgo his suits but once the runny nose had started, he’d immediately decided that protecting his clothes was far more important than style. His hair was tousled and unkempt, thick with curls after a prolonged period with no hair product, and if not for the obvious misery written in every line of his face, she would’ve found him adorable.
“How do you feel?” she asked, mentally bracing herself for the litany of complaints he was sure to rattle off with inflated disbelief that he had been bested by something so common.
Instead, tired brown eyes flickered up to meet her own. “My whole head hurts. And my eyes feel like they’re going to fall out.”
“That’s from the pressure, babe. I know it sucks, but I promise it’ll be over soon.” She reached down to brush the hair from his forehead, also checking his temperature. Fevers were rare with a cold, but Lucifer’s lethargy wasn’t exactly the norm either. Whether it was simply because he was unused to feeling this way or a matter of him being exhausted, it worried her.
His skin was hot, but no more than usual. After a bit of trial and error, Chloe had found his “ideal” temperature was somewhere around 103 degrees. Which made it difficult at times like these to take him to a doctor for a proper evaluation. Any general practitioner would immediately zero in on his high temperature as a symptom.
“How soon?” he asked.
She hummed, sliding her fingers between his brow and down the arch of his nose. Here, it was more obvious how dry and hot his skin was, rubbed raw from hours of contact with tissues. By contrast, her hand must feel like it was freezing. She expected Lucifer to draw away, but he pushed his face into her hand, craving that cool touch.
She smiled. “You like that?”
“Feels nice,” he mumbled, voice scratchy. The coughing fits had abated some since yesterday thanks to all the cough syrup she’d forced into him, but his throat was still sore. She could almost hear the crackle of words grating against the irritated skin.
Bending down to retrieve the still cold water bottle, she placed it gently over his sinuses, just above his brow. It wouldn’t technically do much to help him become less congested, but his immediate sigh of relief was more than worth it. His hand came up to clutch the bottle, shifting it to a more comfortable position. Chloe withdrew her own hand, watching him fondly. He’d definitely been a pain in the ass the last few days but it was so difficult for her to maintain any level of annoyance with him when he did stuff like this.
“So, are we finished being grumpy?” she asked, mostly teasing him.
He blinked up at her, eyes wet and runny in a way that made him look constantly on the cusp of tears. “Don’t like when my nose is stuffed up.”
“No one does. It’s definitely not a fun feeling.” Even as she said it, she wondered about allergies and the likelihood of the Devil being felled by pollen.
Lucifer shook his head slightly. “Feels like I’m suffocating.”
Chloe frowned. Yes, a stuffed nose was uncomfortable but he’d said suffocating with such seriousness, like he was intimately familiar with the sensation.
“I couldn’t breathe when I Fell,” he said, answering her unasked question. His eyes were piercing. “I was going too fast. My wings were bound and I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted to scream but there was no air.”
She sucked in a sharp breath at this. Lucifer spoke so sparingly of his Fall - and by extension, his early time in Hell - but hearing the details never got easier for her. Every time she thought she knew the worse, he would hand her an even worse piece to the puzzle, slowly weaving for her a tapestry of his terror and agony.
“But… you fell for a long time,” she whispered.
He nodded sluggishly. “For days, I think. The trip between plains is easy with wings but without them… well, it’s a long way down, as they say.”
And for that whole time, he couldn’t breath? No wonder he’d been up every night, rolling around like every position brought him physical pain.
“Why didn’t you say something?” she whispered, nudging the water bottle from his face and wiping away the condensation that had collected on his brow.
“Because it’s stupid.” Frustration welled in his tone but he remained listless, enjoying her gentle caresses.
“Babe, it’s not. It’s really not.”
Sometimes it was so difficult to get him to open up about these things. He was accustomed to hiding his hurts and weaknesses, always prepared for something to take advantage if they saw even a hint that he wasn’t at his best. Maze had told her once, in passing, the demons had hunted Lucifer relentlessly when he had first Fallen. He’d been physically broken and weak, hardly able to stand on his own two feet after burning for years in the Lake of Fire. The time before his official rise to King of Hell was marked by battles and bloodshed and even after a shaky order was established, coups were a regular business.
“Do you need anything?” she asked when it became apparent Lucifer would not be commenting further on what he’d shared. “Dinner won’t be ready for a few more hours but if you want a snack or something…”
“I’m not hungry. Everything tastes weird.”
She’d known that was going to be his answer but she couldn’t help but relentlessly ask at every opportunity. He’d barely eaten today.
Reaching into the basket by the couch, she pulled out one of the blankets and unfolded it, draping it over Lucifer before leaning over to kiss his forehead. “I’m going to catch up on some work, okay? Try and take a nap.”
She’d taken off work Friday to handle Lucifer, who she hadn’t felt comfortable leaving on his own when he was going through something so unpleasant and new. But the downside of that meant she now had three case files sitting in her kitchen that needed her attention.
She went to walk away when a tugging on her shirt stilled her. Turning back, she found Lucifer holding onto the back of her shirt.
“Stay?” he asked, eyes big and imploring.
It wasn’t even a question. “Yeah, of course. Scoot over.”
After a few minutes of maneuvering, Chloe ended up sitting with her back against the arm of the couch, her legs spread out straight before her. Lucifer had wedged himself on his side between her and the back of the couch, his head resting on her thigh.
Chloe had changed the channel to a random old movie with actors she vaguely recognized from her youth. It was nothing exciting, which is exactly what she wanted, just some background noise to mix with Lucifer snuffling as they cuddled under the blanket.
Both of her hands rested on him, stroking his hairline, rubbing his shoulder. The rougher texture of his hoodie was different from his usual silken shirts but it was warm all the same, softening the hard plains of his body.
“How come you didn’t get sick?” he asked, tracing patterns on her leg.
She shrugged. “Just got lucky, I guess. Nothing is quite as good for the immune system as having a kid in a germ infested school.”
“Aren’t spawns meant to stay home when they’re sick?”
“Colds aren’t really considered debilitating. Or at least, not like the flu is.”
He looked up at her with wary curiosity. “What’s the flu like?”
“This, but worse. Achy body, sometimes people throw up, high fevers, you know.”
“Oh. If the spawn gets the flu, you’ll warn me? I don’t think I want to catch that.”
“It’s definitely not fun,” she agreed. “But you can get a vaccine for it every year that stops you from getting it.” Now that she was thinking about it, getting him fully vaccinated might be a good idea. She wasn’t sure how effective it would be with him being a celestial, but she’d rather be safe than sorry.
“Is there not a vaccine for the cold?”
She laughed. “Sadly not. Though believe me, people would be thrilled if there was one.”
“Hmm. You humans are confusing. I don’t really understand how you can fix some diseases but not others.” He settled deeper into her thigh, one of his legs coming up to curl over her own. “All these advances happened while I was in Hell. I only saw them in Hell Loops on rare occasions.”
It made her heart ache sometimes, how much she loved him. Rough as his life had been, their lives together were full of these softer moments. And even though he’d definitely been a pain for the last few days, she wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Do you want to buy some medical textbooks?” she asked. “Then you can catch yourself up a bit.”
He yawned loudly. “Might be for the best. Then I’ll know how to take care of you when you get sick.”
Her breath hitched. He didn’t often announce his love the usual way, but these little phrases conveyed so much. Did he know how much it meant to her?
She rubbed his temple, digging in her fingers slightly as she searched for that spot. She knew when she found it because Lucifer sighed in bliss, pressing harder into her hand.
“Feels nice,” he mumbled.
She continued pressing, moving her fingers in tight circles, unintentionally mirroring a ghost of a memory from a lifetime ago, when her mother had done the same for her father on those rare evenings the two of them were home together.
She felt Lucifer relax against her but it was his gentle snores that indicated he’d fallen asleep. Still, she massaged his temple, enjoying the feel of his skin beneath her hand. Being sick sucked, she’d be the first to admit it, but there were some perks too. And she intended to introduce him to every single one.
Ruffling his hair, she switched to her recorded shows list, looking for something to watch until the soup was finished. The warm line against her body breathed slowly, evenly. A new sound to take up the repetitive pattern his sniffling had once been.
It mixed with the same drone of cars outside, the yelling of children playing, the low rumble of the tv. A symphony of life she was willing to listen to for every single day they were granted together.