Chapter Text
“C’mon, Luce, you aren’t feeling inspired? Not even a little bit?”
The Devil, with all the strength in his neck, nods slowly, raising a perfectly-sculpted brow to high heaven. “Frankly, darling, I zoned out when the amphibian started singing about the rainbow.” A smug smile blooms upon his face. He was feeling rather… indifferent, in regards to the film she’d shown him: by no means was it extraordinary, but he had enjoyed the movie from an artist’s point of view, at least. “Yes, well, while that’s all well and good, em… Who was it that you were cherishing so genuinely again?”
Ella gives him a look, knowing very well that he was glued to the screen the whole time. Surprisingly, the living room of her tiny L.A. residence was spacious enough for passionate pacing. She stands to her feet and does just that. “Kermit isn’t just some plain-Jane puppet. He's the man, the myth, the Muppet himself, for cryin’ out loud!”
“Ah-huh… I... see.”
Ella could taste the awkward pain in his voice. “He’s their unwavering leader, the solid foundation upon which the Muppet name rests, y’know? Without their frog-in-chief, there would be no corny jokes to tell or silly tunes to sing.”
He sets down his second cup of coffee—she tells him alcohol was strictly prohibited on this visit, so this was the next best thing. “Well, I’ve never picked up a banjo in all my days, but I’m sure it can’t be that difficult. I believe Dan would fill the Gonzo role swimmingly. We could easily shoot him out of a canon, make it the headlining act of a charity event for the department, no?”
She laughs and nudges him with her knuckle lovingly for ever suggesting such a thing, continuing to prattle on. He runs a hand through his immaculately-styled hair and takes a mental step back. He came to Ella with a favour... this is all for the greater good. Think of the Big Picture, he reiterated internally.
No, despite the pit of despair that sat like a moldy cheeseburger at the floor of his stomach, he didn’t even slightly regret knocking on her door that morning. He took immense pride in that eons-old in-it-to-win-it attitude of his that told him if he really wanted to take this age regression nonsense as seriously as Dr. Martin wanted him to, he could think of none better than Ella to teach him what it truly meant to appreciate the cruel world with a child’s heart.
Even before their acquaintance turned to genuine friendship, Ella had always been the one to corner him in her lab and force him to have a chat whenever he seemed too gloomy for her liking—whether it was a matter concerning his on-again/off-again affair with Chloe, or what she perceived to be biblical insight into his complicated birth family, it was common knowledge that Lucifer never lied to anyone, especially to his beloved Ms. Lopez. When he mentions (in passing) that first night he experienced his regression, how… powerless he felt that this sort of thing could happen at any given moment, that he was slowly losing his sense of self, she was quick to offer him her home as a safe haven from the adult world to explore the side of himself he never would have believed was hidden beneath the surface.
Nearly a month after their silent agreement, she finds Lucifer standing at her front step on a sunny Friday morning, overnight bag in tow, holding a tray of coffees and breakfast sandwiches from her favourite bakery. Oh, so he’s really trying to butter me up. Ella instinctively knows she’ll be using her much-overdue sick time that day when she observes the man before her seems far more willing to accept one of her signature hugs than he has ever shown interest in before.
It was only a matter of time before she met a side of Lucifer only a few souls had ever encountered before. If there was anyone other than Dr. Martin and his brother that Lucifer was comfortable knowing about his… younger self, it was Ella Lopez.
Lucifer sighs in exasperation, taking another swig of his lukewarm Cup o’ Joe. “Why on my Father’s green earth do you care so much about those bloody marionette-puppet hybrids anyway? You’re a woman of science, and children’s entertainment is hardly educational.”
Ella scoffs. “Oh, that couldn’t be farther from the truth, kid!”
Of all the guttural noises the human body can produce, Lucifer Morningstar wouldn’t be caught dead chuckling—but Ella certainly knew how to take the often flavourless tones of life and sweeten them in a moment’s notice. She quickly grabs the TV remote and turns off the box as the credits of the original Muppet Movie (released in the summer of 1979, when Lucifer was acquainting himself with some rather experimental drugs provided to him by Jack Nicholson, who was returning the favour for making Chinatown the success that it was) roll. “Jim Henson was all about teaching kindness, and encouraging creativity! I was a teenager when Bill Nye was huge, and don’t get me wrong, I loved the Science Guy, but when I was little I was always watching Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood or Bob Ross when TV time was allowed. These guys taught me more about life than any textbook ever did.”
For every sex position Lucifer could name, Ella could counter with just as much—if not more more—knowledge on some nerdy television programme or chemical equation that was relevant to whatever case they were examining for that week. Lucifer just didn’t have the care for those sorts of things, but he was ever-thankful Ella did. “Yes, well, as exciting as these fuzzy creatures may be, I’m not feeling any different. The Doctor told me wherever it was that my brain went when… the unmentionable occurred… is a place of refuge, a safe haven from stress, if you will.” Silence. “That damned headspace could creep up on me at any given moment, though you can understand why I’d much rather avoid that, hm? Rather embarrassing, all things considered.”
Ella does consider, thinking back to the semi-extensive research she did when Lucifer first confessed all of this to her—on the outside, she radiated peace and understanding, taking every precaution not to alarm him with just how shocked she felt on the inside. She’d always suspected his overly-charismatic facade was too beguiling to be deemed authentic at the core; a mask he sculpted at his own hand to protect him from the whole world of hurt he housed deep within his personhood. “I’m sure she also probably mentioned that willingly regressing has a lot of benefits, too.” She had quit pacing not too long ago, and took up the unoccupied space on her sofa next to him. “People cope with life in a bunch of different ways, and your body and mind have been trying to tell you that this is just what you need to feel better, sometimes. Nothing to be ashamed of. But, in order for it to work, and I mean really work, you have to want this. Do you want this, Lucifer?”
She almost notes his hands fidgeting, or perhaps his ears growing flush as they creep far too closely to the conversation he dreaded beyond the confines of Linda’s locked practice door. “I-It’s not some magical transformation I undergo where everything is trauma-less childhood euphoria and puppies and... rainbow connections.” It’s now his turn to take to his feet, straightening the starched collar of his stupidly-expensive button-down. “I own the most illustrious nightclub in the state of California, Hell, probably the world! I torture criminals a-and dish-out justice with an unforgiving hand. I-I can utter one single word and any individual becomes pliant at my will, their deepest desires handed to me on a silver platter. By all means, I am a fully-functioning adult male with so much money and acclaim that the standard person would explode at the notion of. Of all that my psyche could do to help me maintain some guise of sanity, I shouldn’t require having to live this humiliating excuse of my truth!”
Lucifer is breathing heavily now, clearly agitated and upset with coming to terms. Ella is quick to placate him, first being careful to ensure he is willing to accept affection before shushing him, encouraging that he breathe with her. In, two, three, four; out, two, three, four; there you go, you’ve got it, big guy. Now try on your own. When the blood makes its way back to the rest of his makeshift circulatory system, she goes out only to bring him a glass of water, and nearly has to force him to drink it.
“Luce, no one is trying to minimise any of your adult accomplishments just because you’re a regressor. Littles have very fulfilling adult lives! It sucks that, like, 90% of that day-to-day life is work, and taxes, and mustering the courage to book your own doctor’s appointments…” she clears her throat. “Yeah, but that other 10%? That’s where the real you shines! Everyone has their own version of the truth, and as long as everything is morally in check, the only barrier keeping you from feeling mentally healthy would be your own self-loathing. And you know what I just don’t allow in my house?” She poses, expecting a genuine response.
Lucifer can only seem to raise that same brow, his go-to expression in a pinch of both annoyance and bringing himself down from the tantrum he nearly subjected poor Ella to.
“None of those icky feelings for longer than we need to, that’s for sure!” She exclaims. Hot on her toes, she pulls Lucifer up with her, making sure to grab the overnight bag he packed for himself that had been sitting innocently by her front door all morning long, as well. She drags him into her bedroom, turning on the light and making him sit atop her bedspread as she stands directly in front of him. “So what if you’re forty going on four! I’m forty-two and still sleep with stuffed animals! Are we hurting anybody? Heck to the no!”
Lucifer crosses his arms, trying not to grow too vexed at how incessantly Ella is pushing this positive agenda upon him.
“Not to mention, as much as you’ll hate to hear it, you’re already pretty child-like as is, so I guess this is more-so a matter of making adult you comfortable with the reality of sometimes itty-bitty you.” She ponders, glancing back over to him. “Are you even itty-bitty? Like, how old are you?”
He sighs. Far older than 40. Far too old to be indulging in whatever rubbish this is, he desires to say, yet manages to restrain himself. Ella was only being nice. (Then again, whenever was she not?)
Lucifer actually hadn’t considered that fact before. The very first time he, albeit involuntarily, regressed in Amenadiel’s midst, he showed far younger tendencies than he was ready to admit: the clinginess, the squirminess, the ease at which tears cascaded down his cheeks… There was no way in Hades that the Devil Himself would ever be caught under the similar circumstances as the month prior. No. Not ever. Lucifer was certain he was not some blubbering bundle of joy.
Ella senses the awkward air grow even colder between them. “It’s alright if you don’t even know! Why don’t we…” she thinks aloud, her face lighting up in excitement. “Ah, I’ve got it! Try a little bit of everything! Big and little kid stuff, so you can get the best of both worlds, like a touch-and-go type of deal. How’s that sound, lil’ man?”
Ella’s elation and enthusiasm is palpable, as if it ignites the very air they breathe. The Devil sighs—how could he shoot her down? “Alright, then. On with the show, yada yada.”
Lucifer notes the unassertive flat as he begins to stand: one floor with one bedroom, one bathroom, and plentiful quantities of geeky paraphernalia… utterly perfect for the one Ella Lopez he adored so dearly. Perhaps for her next birthday or whatever upcoming holiday marked on the Christian calendar was, he would pay off this place in full or offer to upgrade her to a larger home address. Money was only paper to a being like himself, and it would bring him immense joy to know he’d alleviated a stressor only humans fretted over—although, he was certain she’d cry enough happy tears to float Noah’s second Ark before he could get her to sign any of the necessary paperwork.
“Woah, woah, woah, not so fast!”
Lucifer mentioned he wasn’t getting any younger before laughing aloud at his clever use of language. Ella rolls her eyes and sits him back on his butt.
“You must wanna get out of that stuffy getup. Did you pack anything mildly appropriate for the occasion?”
Oh.
Well, of course he had. Folded neatly, no doubt, in that damned bag of his that sat innocently beside Ms. Lopez’s dresser drawers, along with his toothbrush and the copious amount of hair-styling products he’d need if he was going to have this sleepover and leave the next day as though nothing had ever occurred. It was a simple outfit, nothing terribly flashy, but just uncharacteristic enough to attempt to catapult him into regression. No other dressy garments or stinky cologne, other than what was presently draping his body. Lucifer can feel his face heat up in pre-embarrassment, mustering only a sheepish nod and an awkward smile before he stares at the ground.
She cooes. “Naww it’s alright, bud, I was only suggesting. We don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.”
“No, no,” Lucifer stops her, holding up a single shaky hand, offering it to his friend, which she swiftly takes. “I would like to, yet I find that I’m having substantial trouble crossing this metaphorical threshold. I’m almost positive you’d never been asked as strange a favour as this in your past, much less that you’d ever agree to help me. Perhaps I should show myself out before—”
“Woah, woah, woah, hold up, dude!” Ella waves her hands in a dismissive manner, pulling him back down into a sitting position, grabbing both of his shoulders so that he has no choice but to look directly at her. “This isn’t a favour, remember? I’m here to help—I want to help, Luce. I can only imagine how tough this must be. Hm...” she thinks aloud, giving his hand a loving squeeze, reminding him he wasn’t alone. “Y’know, in the beginning, you totally had me fooled thinking you were just acting like you were the Devil, so maybe you could tackle your headspace in a different way by... playing… pretend?”
Lucifer blinks. “I wasn’t acting, Ms. Lopez, I really am the bloody Devil. Sans tail, as you know.”
Ella blinks. She tried her best to forget the fact that the Biblical Lucifer was probably her best friend, someone whose hand she has intertwined with her own right now (and honestly, his was kind of getting sweaty), an actual contact in her phone that she could drunk-text at the witching hour if she was so pleased to. When she first learned the truth, that Lucifer truly was who he said he was, she spent an afternoon spewing the contents of her stomach into a toilet, asking herself just how she wanted to deal with this. She couldn’t picture her world without him, and she knew for a fact that she’d die of heartache knowing she was the one who kicked him out for good—Satan or not, Lucifer was family, forever and always. She snaps out of this momentary trance to get back on track.
“No, no, not act, buddy! We’re gonna play.”
Lucifer studies her, quizzically, pursing his lips in acute contemplation. “Are the two not synonymous?”
She shakes her head. “When human babies get to be two-ish years old, they enter what some stuffy psychologist named Jean Piaget calls the ‘Preoperational Stage’ of development, where they start to come up with make-believe scenarios and enjoy false realities. Y’know, as little kids normally do. Doesn’t mean you have to be two, necessarily, but I think we should start by getting you acquainted with pretend play! And, in order to properly play pretend,” she begins, glancing purposefully at his leather bag. “You’ve gotta have just the right costume.”
Well. At least she was right. “Looking the part?”
Ella just nods, a humble, yet ever-so snide smile painting her rosy cheeks. “Looking the part.”
Apprehensively, he takes the keister up in his hold, unzipping it to behold the damning contents. “You truly believe this will aid me in kickstarting a regressive episode?”
“First time around, you never really got to experience what it’s like to relax and… enjoy your childhood. I think it’s a great thing that you’re making up for those thousand-or-so lost years! And today, you bet I’m gonna make sure you have oodles of fun, or your money back.” When her enchanting brown eyes meet his own, the nervousness promptly exits his body. It is then that Lucifer Morningstar realises what a wonderful angel she would have made, were she one of his blood siblings.
“Have faith, Luci-goosey. Ella's gonna make everything a-okay.”