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“You know I’m bisexual, right?”
The question catches Chloe off guard, and she peels her eyes away from the road to glance over at him quickly.
Where did that come from? Maybe he saw her eyes slide over to the storefront that was plastered with pride flags. Maybe he noticed the rainbow billboard they just drove by, the one advertising that love is love. Or maybe he simply wants to make sure she’s aware of his identity.
In any case, she does know. She’s known for years, actually. And she hasn’t had a problem with it at all – if she did, she’d be a hypocrite.
But why does he care now?
“I think that was made pretty clear when we interrogated all of your sexual partners a few years ago,” she replies smoothly.
“Hmm, I suppose it was.”
He doesn’t sound satisfied with her response.
“Why are you asking? Am I supposed to get you a pride gift or something?” she jokes. It is June, after all.
Lucifer looks over at her, confused. “What the bloody hell is a pride gift ?”
“It was a joke, Lucifer,” she says, smiling at his cluelessness. “Nevermind.”
Her attention returns to the road for a minute, before realizing she hadn’t actually confirmed that she was okay with his sexuality. Chloe didn’t think he really needed the confirmation, if she’s being honest. He’s never shied away from being himself. Plus, she’s always had his back – what makes him think she wouldn’t accept this about him?
He’s literally the Devil. And while, yes, she reacted a little… poorly when she first found out, she loves him for it now. His being bisexual is definitely a lot less of a problem than that.
But the way he fiddles with his hands anxiously proves her wrong. She’s not sure if he’s thinking about something else by now, but she reassures him just in case.
“Lucifer, you know I’ll always love and support you, right? No matter what.”
He nods, “I know, and I love you, too, Detective. I just…”
“What is it?”
Lucifer looks flustered, as if he’s trying to figure out how to phrase something in the right way. She’s noticed he does a lot more thinking before he speaks, now that they’re dating. It’s cute (although she vows never to tell him this – the Devil apparently does not do ‘cute’).
“If you ever decided you were… not straight,” he begins, averting her gaze, “you can tell me. I’m here for you, yes?”
Chloe almost chokes on air. What? Where did that come from?
It’s not like he isn’t onto something – Chloe has known she’s bisexual for years. But she’s never told anyone. Well, except for her mom, who didn’t take it well at all. She had a close call with Ella one drunken tribe night, and she’s sure Maze has figured it out but knows enough not to bring it up. But Lucifer? She’s pretty sure she’s never said a single thing to him about her sexuality.
Maybe, with time, she’d tell people. She just figured it wasn’t that big of a deal – if she dates a woman, she dates a woman. It’s not really more than that. And seeing as she’s never actually dated a woman, coming out hasn’t been much of a priority for her.
Not to mention, she’s terrified of coming out.
So how did Lucifer figure it out?
Well, okay. She’s selling him short. For starters, the man is obsessed with desire. Especially Chloe’s own – she knows that much. And he’s told her on more than one occasion how “on point” his gaydar is.
So, she decides, it’s not really a how did he figure it out and more of a why.
She tries to play it cool.
“What makes you say that? Where is this coming from, why would you think that?” she demands.
Alright, maybe that wasn’t playing it cool, per se, but it serves him right for catching her off guard.
“Detective, I didn’t mean to offend you,” he says quickly. “But if you must know, I have impeccable gaydar.”
Of course.
“And? Your mojo doesn’t work on me, what says your… gaydar… does?”
“Gaydar is different!” he protests. “It’s not celestial, it’s just queer instinct.”
“Mhm.”
Chloe returns her attention to the road, hopefully putting this conversation to bed.
“Also, I’ve seen you look at women for far too long to be merely admiring their necklace,” he adds as if it’s something you’d say casually at a cocktail party.
“I do not! ” says Chloe indignantly. It’s a lie, she’s definitely done it. Doesn’t everyone? But that doesn’t mean he needs to know that.
“Don’t worry, Detective, it’s nothing to be ashamed about!” he assures her. “I know lots of queer women! Mazikeen, for example! And Eve, and Miss Lopez, and–”
“I know,” Chloe says angrily, and that’s that.
It’s not that she’s ashamed. She’s not. She’s just scared. She’s never really been one to open up like that, and what if it backfires? The rational part of her knows that everything would turn out fine if she were to come out. Hell, she knows that even Trixie would be excited for her and make her drawings of rainbows. That thought alone almost makes her heart explode.
But growing up under constant scrutiny from her mother and the tabloids and everything has made her endlessly wary about being herself.
She knows it’s bullshit, and that coming out isn’t easy for anyone, but fuck. Why does the idea that Lucifer might find out she’s bisexual make her heart race and her throat close up?
“Chloe, I’m sorry–”
“It’s fine.”
They sit in silence for the rest of the way to the crime scene. She hopes Lucifer can’t hear her heart beating loudly through her chest, or that he doesn’t notice her abnormally heavy breathing as she tries to calm herself down.
She can’t even bring herself to rationalize because she’s not sure what Lucifer would say. Would he ask to have a threesome? A foursome? An orgy? He’s been respectful of her wishes against that thus far, but does her being bisexual change any of that for him? Would he be unsupportive? Would he tell her it’s just a phase like her mother did when Chloe tried to come out to her?
No, he wouldn’t, she realizes. He’d said it before, he’s here for her. He’s her partner. And he’s seen his fair share of crazy. He’s also bisexual himself, and it would be so unlike him to be hypocritical like that.
So, she’s decided. She’s going to do it. She’s going to come out to him.
Her heart beats even faster as she pulls the car off to the curb and parks it. Okay, Decker, she tells herself. Breathe.
“Okay, fine, you win,” Chloe says, breaking the silence. Lucifer looks up at her in surprise. “You’re right. I’m bisexual.”
For the first time ever, Lucifer doesn’t seem to have a response. He sits still in the passenger seat, shocked.
“Sorry, I just– I’ve never really told anyone that,” she rambles, “and I don’t know, it’s kind of hard for me to open up to people, especially about my sexuality, and no one really knows, so–”
He cuts her off by swooping in to kiss her on the cheek. He’s grinning widely, and he looks happy.
“I’m so proud of you, Chloe,” he says warmly.
Chloe mirrors his smile, her cheeks flushing. He’s proud of her. He’s said it a few times, usually about a breakthrough on a case, but this time, it means so much more. He accepts her and loves her and supports her and it’s more than she could have ever wanted.
“Thank you,” she replies, her voice soft. She ducks her head in embarrassment and bites her bottom lip so she doesn’t grin too widely. She hopes he understands the meaning those two words carry. She tells him thank you all the time, but this time it’s different. He’s the first person she’s come out to that has accepted her and told her they’re proud of her.
“Anytime.”
They get out of the car and she walks right into his arms, her eyes brimming with happy tears. Lucifer, who used to flinch at any sort of meaningful physical contact, welcomes her fervently. Chloe’s heart flutters in her chest when he strokes her hair and plants a kiss on the top of her head and bends down to whisper sweet nothings into her ear.
It’s ironic, really. She feels safe in his arms. Safer than she’s ever felt before, yet he’s the literal Devil.
He may be the Devil, but he loves and supports her like it’s his life’s purpose. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
They walk arm in arm to the crime scene. It’s new for her, having usually kept workplace PDA at arm’s length, but she likes it. And she knows for a fact that Lucifer likes it, too. Walking to work with her arm in his makes them feel like even more of a team.
She leans her head on his shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, Chloe sees Lucifer’s eyes on her – beaming proudly, as if to say, that’s my Detective.
Her heart skips a beat again as he slips his arm out from hers and slides it around her waist.
“Thank you for telling me, by the way,” he says, loud enough that she can hear it but quietly enough that they aren’t overheard. “For letting me in even if it might have been hard.”
Chloe smiles. After all these years she never thought he may have come so far as to support her emotionally, but she’s beyond glad he has. She doesn’t think he understands how much it means to her.
“Always,” she replies. “What are partners for?”
———
Lucifer’s staring at her on the way back to the precinct.
“What?” Chloe asks, the corners of her mouth tilting upward in amusement.
“Sorry, just thinking,” he says absentmindedly.
Chloe narrows her eyes, unconvinced. He always tells her what’s up. Maybe he didn’t before she saw his devil face, but now there’s nothing that can be more disturbing than that. Not that his devil face is disturbing.
“What’s up?”
“Nevermind, Detective, it’s trivial of me. What are our leads so far on the case?”
She loves him for asking, she really does. It makes her heart soar whenever Lucifer actually cares about their work. He had once told her that since a case mattered to her, it mattered to him, and that statement doesn’t seem to have wavered.
“Lucifer,” she says, her tone reprimanding but not unkind. “Whatever it is, I’m all ears.”
He takes a deep breath.
“Well, I saw you ogling the shop with the pride flags in the window on the way here, and I was thinking maybe we could stop there and get one?”
So he had noticed that. It’s kind of sweet of him, actually.
Chloe presses her lips together. Lucifer loves giving gifts. She’s pretty sure it’s his love language, actually. His way of showing people he cares without having to actually tell them – a bouquet of flowers presented to her on a random Tuesday, her usual coffee order sitting at her desk every morning without fail, a fancy plaid blazer that reminded him of her, a bag full of groceries on her kitchen counter after a long week of work. His gifts have gotten more and more personal and romantic since they’ve started dating, and she loves him for it. She really does.
But as much as she appreciates his kind gestures, she doesn’t want this to be a sort of reassurance, a way of him showing his support without having to say it. She wants him to say it. He already has, and she doesn’t want him to stop.
“Lucifer, you don’t have to do that for me.”
“I know I don’t have to,” he says, his hands automatically fixing his cufflinks – a nervous tic to reassure himself. “I want to. I thought we could put it in the penthouse or something, as a little token of our identities.”
Chloe’s heart flips. She turns her head to look at him in awe. This isn’t only about her. It’s about them as a couple. As partners. It’s a sign of their support for one another, she supposes. The support that’s existed since they worked their first case together and has only grown stronger.
“Unless you don’t want to,” Lucifer adds quickly. He looks apprehensive. It’s kind of adorable.
“Of course I do,” says Chloe earnestly. “That’s really sweet of you, Lucifer, thank you.”
Her hand moves from its place on the steering wheel to his lap, where Lucifer nervously fiddles with his hands. She places her hand over his, intertwining their fingers.
“Anytime, Detective. It’s what partners are for.”
Her face splits into a wide grin. It’s a stupid, lovesick, dopey grin that Lucifer mimics, giving her hand a squeeze.
He looks at her with his patented devilish smirk.
“Also, we needed something to commemorate the fact that we’re totally the hottest bi couple in the universe. Bicons, if you will.”
Chloe groans. “You are not allowed to call us that.”
“Noted,” says Lucifer with a look that tells her he is definitely going to call them that.
She loves him, she really does. Even if he’s the world’s oldest toddler.
Chloe glances at him with an affectionate eye roll. “I love you.”
“Love you too, darling. Light of my life. The bi to my sexual.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yes it does,” says Lucifer quickly. “Don’t overthink it, Detective.”
With a laugh, Chloe returns her eyes to the road. She’s never been happier.
———
“Darling, I’m almost done!” Lucifer calls from the depths of his closet. “You’re going to love it!”
Chloe’s sitting on the bed in one of his shirts with makeup on and her hair styled neatly in elegant waves down her back. Her eyeshadow is a colourful blend of blue, purple, and pink – Lucifer’s idea – and her eyeliner flicks out in thin wings.
They’re going to the pride party at Lux, which starts in half an hour, according to the fancy old clock on the penthouse wall. At this rate, they won’t be there until they’ll be considered more than fashionably late – even though it’s only an elevator ride away. All because Lucifer decided to wait until the last minute to find them the perfect outfit.
“Just wear what you would normally wear,” she’d told him earlier, “and I’m sure I can find an appropriate dress in my closet.”
Lucifer had waved his hand dismissively in response, claiming that he was perfectly capable of choosing outfits for both of them. In fact, she believes the specific words he’d used were, “I’m what the youth call a style icon, Detective.”
He’d only asked her to go with him yesterday. Which explains why he’s being so last minute about all of this.
They had been enjoying a typical night at the penthouse after a long day of work. Their case had just wrapped up, and Chloe was finishing the last of the paperwork while Lucifer sat at the piano, nursing a glass of whiskey and serenading her with whatever songs came to mind.
“Detective,” he had said suddenly, after a particularly soulful rendition of All of Me. He had sounded apprehensive.
“Yeah?”
“I was wondering if you’d… if you’d want to accompany me to the party we’re throwing for pride tomorrow evening at Lux? As my date, obviously. Maze and Eve will be there, and Miss Lopez and whoever she brings as her plus-one, as well, and I just thought it might be fun if we went together. You know, since you’ve now come out to me.”
Chloe had looked up at him in surprise. “Lucifer, I’m your girlfriend,” she had deadpanned.
He’d frowned. “Yes, I know that, but what does it have to do with–”
“Of course I want to go with you,” she’d told him with a soft smile. “I’m always here to support you, it’s what you and I do.”
“Oh, well, in that case, thank you, Detective.” A soft smile had spread over his face. The type of smile he reserves just for her, the kind that displays his love for her even when he can’t say it.
He had brightened. “Ooh, we should wear matching outfits! How do you feel about wrapping yourself in a very large bisexual flag?”
“Lucifer, no–”
“Or we can just paint our bodies blue purple and pink!”
“Lucifer–”
Lucifer had looked at Chloe with the kind of kicked puppy expression that Trixie used whenever she denied her another slice of cake. “No?”
Chloe shook her head. “I don’t– I don’t know if I’m really ready to come out to everyone right now.”
Lucifer’s expression softened at that. “Oh,” he said. “Right, that makes sense. Sorry if I seemed like I was pressuring you, Detective. It wasn’t my intention.”
“Don’t worry,” Chloe had replied. “I think a subtle nod to the colours in our outfits would be nice. That way if anyone asks I can just say I’m supporting you?”
And there it was again – that soft smile he wears only when Chloe does something kind and he can’t believe she would ever go the extra mile for him.
“I think that would be lovely.”
Lucifer emerges from the closet now, carrying a hanger on each hand, which appear to hold entire outfits for both of them.
“Here you go, darling,” says Lucifer, handing her one. “I think everything should fit you, I had some suits altered to your size a while back – you know, just in case you needed one – so let me know.”
Chloe stares at him. “You altered your clothes to fit me?” It’s incredibly sweet of him.
“Well yes,” he replies as if it’s obvious. “What if you were staying over and needed a change of clothes for work?”
That gesture alone is enough to make Chloe’s heart soar. She smiles at him like he’s the best thing that ever happened to her (he is).
She puts on the clothes he gave her and is surprised to see that they actually do fit. How the hell did he even get her measurements?
They seem to be wearing almost the exact same thing, she notices. He’s put on an almost identical plum suit to hers, but rather than wearing the pale pink blouse that Chloe has on, Lucifer’s dress shirt is baby blue.
It’s cute. They’re matching, and it’s representative of their sexualities without making it overtly clear. Her lips pinch into a smile as she looks at him, he’s still buttoning up his shirt.
“What, no three-piece suit?” she teases.
“Well, seeing as you’re not wearing one, I didn’t think it would be apropos.”
She rolls her eyes, walking over to him. “Thank you Lucifer,” she says, rising on her toes to kiss him briefly on the mouth. “These outfits are perfect. We look–”
“Like bicons?”
“That is definitely not where I was going with that, but sure. I was going to say we look like a team.”
“Oh,” he’s giving her that look again. It’s as if he’s been suddenly struck with an overwhelming amount of love for her. She looks at him that way, too. “Well, I guess we do make a pretty good team, don’t we, Detective?”
“That we do.”
Lucifer perks up. “I almost forgot – one more thing, love, hang on!”
He rushes back into the closet, leaving Chloe alone in the bedroom. She paces around, making sure she’s got everything with her; bullet necklace, ring, earrings, phone. Her heels click on the tiles of Lucifer’s bedroom floor. They had been the one item of clothing he requested she bring with him, the rest evidently having been provided by himself. Chloe had opted to wear high black stilettos because she can, and also because she knew that he’d die when he saw her in them. She was right.
Lucifer emerges from the closet holding two small bisexual flags. They’re not supported by a stick to be waved around, they’re just two small swatches of fabric with the telltale blue, purple, and pink stripes. They almost look like…
“Pocket squares!” he announces, folding his and putting it into his breast pocket like he was born to do so.
Chloe smiles. “That’s very creative of you, Lucifer.”
“Thank you, Detective,” he preens, flashing her a proud smirk that tells her he knew she would like the idea.
Lucifer moves toward her, folding the pocket square. He tucks it into her pocket and gives her a swift peck on the lips.
“All done!” he says cheerfully. “Shall we? Unless you think we have time for a little bit of–”
“Lucifer, I am not having sex with you right now.”
Lucifer huffs. “Well, why not? We can be quick.”
“I don’t believe that,” she retorts. They can be quick, it’s true. But she of all people should know that once they start, it’ll be impossibly hard to get Lucifer to stop.
Plus, the party’s about to start. Which was definitely the first thing she thought about, rather than Lucifer’s–
“Oh come on, Detective, yes we can! Remember that one time when we–”
Chloe gives him a withering look. “Please don’t finish that sentence.”
She grabs his hand, dragging him toward the elevator. Despite his noises of protest, he goes willingly with her, snatching his glass of whiskey from the top of the piano on the way.
They ride the elevator down to Lux in a pleasant silence. Lucifer’s free arm, the one not holding a glass, wraps around Chloe. She leans her head on his shoulder.
“I’m glad you’re going with me,” he says quietly. “It means a lot, thank you.”
Chloe turns her head to look at him. “Of course,” she whispers. “I’m here for you, yeah?”
He leans in to kiss her, passionate but sweet. Chloe smiles, deepening the kiss, bringing the arm that was around his waist to snake around his neck.
They break away when the elevator dings, reminding them of the reality of the party that they’re definitely late for by now. Chloe starts to leave the elevator but Lucifer’s hand on her arm stops her.
He looks at her like she’s the only thing that matters in the crowded haze of the club, and it makes her stomach erupt in a swarm of butterflies.
“And I you, Chloe,” he says, returning her sentiment from before. “It’s what partners do.”