Archive of Our Own

If someone were to hold a gun to Chloe Decker’s head and demand that she explain how she ended up undercover in a neighborhood that is straight out of Stepford Wives with the Devil playing the role of her husband, she’d be dead. When the Lieutenant informed her it would be happening, she stuttered and stammered and tried to think of any excuse as to why it couldn’t happen.

An hour later, she was packing her bags.

She understands the importance of the case and even going undercover to investigate; a couple was found dead in a gated community, brutally murdered in their beds, and all the evidence points towards one of the neighbors as the killer. Chloe is all for getting justice for victims and their families. What she doesn’t understand is why she and Lucifer have to be the ones who investigate; the Lieutenant couldn’t have chosen a worse time in their partnership to assign them the case.

There is a canyon of metaphorical space between Chloe and Lucifer currently that she can’t seem to bridge, no matter what she does. Though, if she’s being honest, she hasn’t tried all that hard lately. Not since she came clean about working with Kinley, even if she did change her mind. Not since Eve returned from Heaven to get a bit of Hell on Earth with the Devil. Not since Lucifer came back to work at the LAPD. They work together cordially enough and still have the highest close rate in the department, but recently, it feels like Chloe is pulling all the weight. Lucifer is more interested in his outside extracurriculars with his new girlfriend and the rest of Los Angeles.

Seriously. If Chloe has to hear about the cast of Cirque du Soleil one more time...

Which is why she further doesn’t understand why Lucifer is going along with this. Chloe would have thought he’d stomp his feet and pout and whine and vanish on her the way he has been more and more lately. Instead, he showed up at her apartment promptly at the time she specified, driving a red Mercedes SUV rather than his Corvette so they'd fit in with the neighborhood. Chloe’s steps faltered when she walked out with her rolling suitcase and saw what he was wearing: not a bespoke suit that would have covered several months’ rent for her, but a sweater vest and khakis. In place of his trademark red-soled Louboutins, he wore loafers.

She still can’t believe it.

What’s more, he’s been taking the case incredibly seriously, putting in the work instead of wandering off to do something (anything) else that’s less boring. The first time someone rang the doorbell of the house after they “moved in”, Lucifer wrapped an arm around her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. And when he pressed a kiss to her forehead, it didn’t feel for show. Even though it totally was.

No. It was. She’s sure of it. They’re undercover. And he has a girlfriend at home. It’s not real. It...it’s not.

Of course, this isn’t the first time she’s seen him undercover in a situation like this; he and Pierce pretended to be married for the sake of a case and it was nearly catastrophic. Still, they caught the killer—and Chloe doesn’t think she will ever be able to rid her memory of that kiss Lucifer planted on the Lieutenant to maintain their cover after an argument.

He’s going by Luke again while, somehow, Chloe was allowed to use her real first name. Luke and Chloe Moore.

They’re going on day three, and Chloe is already starting to forget that this is a temporary, pretend situation. Most of Chloe’s time is taken with the case—either going over evidence or making notes of what they’ve observed throughout the neighborhood during the day. Lucifer does the vast majority (all) of the cooking, and though it’s only fair that Chloe does the dishes, he waves her off every time and does them himself. Then he’ll settle somewhere near her while she works to watch TV or play on his phone—and drinks, of course, which she doesn’t mind. She finds she just enjoys having his company, having someone to bounce theories off of, even if some of his are wildly off the wall and kind of hilarious.

Okay, they're totally hilarious. She's laughed more in the last few days than in the last few months combined.

But it’s...nice. It’s more than nice. It’s almost a glimpse into what their lives could have been like if she hadn’t screwed everything up between them. Granted, she imagines Lucifer would much prefer to be at Lux than sitting around a house, even one as nice as this, but he’s hardly complained. In fact, he’s been an impeccable partner. And for reasons she doesn’t entirely understand, it makes her incredibly suspicious.

“So, how did you two lovebirds meet?”

Chloe and Lucifer invited a couple they suspect might have played a part in their victims’ murders over for dinner. He prepared a beautiful full three-course meal that wouldn’t be out of place at a five-star restaurant. Chloe is quickly getting spoiled with his cooking and isn’t looking forward to going back to her boxed meals and takeout when this case is over.

Her eyes widen at the question. While they did come up with a thorough cover story, they somehow missed this aspect of it and now, she’s kicking herself. Lucifer doesn’t lie, after all. She opens her mouth to answer, uncertain what’s actually going to come out of her lips, but he beats her to it.

“It was rather by chance, really,” he says smoothly, draping an arm around Chloe’s shoulders and giving her a besotted look.

Inwardly, she’s chanting it isn’t real it isn’t real it isn’t real he’s pretending it isn’t real, but when the backs of his fingers brush along her shoulder, like he can’t resist touching her if he tried...well, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to convince herself.

“I was a bit of an idiot at the time and whilst she caught my attention instantly, it took me a while to admit to myself she was the one. She was quite unimpressed with me, you see, but I knew I had to find some way to keep her in my life, so I kept showing up and eventually, she let me stick around. We’ve been together ever since. If I knew then what I know now...well,” he huffs, reaching for his glass, a small, soft smile on his lips and an odd look in his eyes as he looks into his wine, “I would have told her I loved her the moment I saw her.”

By some miracle, Chloe manages not to let her jaw drop. She knows he has made an artform of twisting his words, but that? That sounded genuine. It’s a struggle not to let herself believe he really means that; that he meant every word.

He has a girlfriend. He’s probably imagining Eve when he said it.

But then he turns and looks at her, a glimmer in his eyes she’s seen hints of before, except this time, he doesn’t try to hide it from her. “She’s my best friend and the love of my life,” he continues in a murmur. “The person I want to share everything with. And it will never cease to amaze me that she’s allowed me into her life after all I’ve done and all the darkness she’s seen in me.”

Chloe stares at him, her lips parted in stunned surprise at the raw vulnerability in his expression. Beneath the table, he tentatively reaches for her hand, linking their fingers. She expects him to lift them to make a show out of it in front of their guests, but he keeps them there on her knee, hidden, his thumb stroking the edge of her hand. He searches her eyes for something only he knows to look for and his smile widens just a touch, as if he’s found it.

“Aww,” croons the woman across from them. Betty or Bethany; Chloe is having trouble remembering anything right now. “You two are just the cutest.”

Chloe startles a little, having forgotten they aren’t alone. Lucifer turns away, his expression shifting to a polite mask. “Aren’t we just?” He reaches for his glass again and takes a sip. Chloe swallows her disappointment. Of course, it was all for show.

And yet, he’s still holding her hand.

“Well, I don’t think those two have enough brain cells between them to be the killers,” Lucifer announces as he does the dishes. “Brenda attempted to use a fork for the soup course—twice.”

Chloe has barely said a word since their guests left, forcing herself to focus on case files rather than what happened during the meal. Brenda...right... “And Mitch spent most of his time playing footsie under the table—with me,” she says dryly.

There’s a clatter of plates and she looks up quickly to see that Lucifer dropped them on the counter. He turns around, his expression hard. “He what?” he growls.

Blinking at the response, she nods. “Yeah, I thought he was aiming for, you know, his wife, but after the sixth time and the winks he kept shooting me...mmm, not so sure.”

Lucifer’s jaw tenses. “Well, perhaps he is the killer, then. I should go punish him, just to be sure.”

“Yeah, no. You’re not punishing one of the neighbors for failing to flirt with me, Lucifer,” she says sternly. Besides, she was too preoccupied with her own pretend husband to care what an accountant who can probably barely count was doing. “But I do agree they aren’t the killers.”

Her partner watches her for a few more moments, his expression inscrutable, and then he turns back to his task. She bites her lip against reminding him that this is all pretend and that displaying jealousy when there is nobody else to see is pointless. Assuming it was jealousy. Or pretend.

It. isn’t. real.

Maybe she should tattoo that on the palm of her hand to remind herself...

“Well, then, who is next on our list of neighbors-slash-suspects?” Lucifer eventually asks. “I swear to Dad, if I have to sit through one more bloody lecture about stock prices on mayonnaise I’m going to go on a killing spree of my own. Starting with Mitch.”

Rolling her eyes, Chloe lists off the remaining couples in the neighborhood. “I might go through the security footage for the front gate again. I’m having serious doubts that anyone here cared enough about the victims to kill them.”

“I can help if you like,” he offers a bit too quickly.

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “You really don’t have to, Lucifer. I know that stuff bores you.”

She suddenly wishes she was able to read him the way she used to; before, she could more or less discern his thoughts with a glance. Now, his walls are so high (probably to keep her, specifically, out) she’s left guessing. And usually, she guesses wrong.

“I don’t mind, Detective. We’re still on the case, yes? And when we’re on the case, the case has my full attention.” Going by his tone of voice alone, she suspects he’s saying something entirely different—and that cases are not what he’s thinking about.

Her mouth opens to respond, but she closes it when nothing comes out. Swallowing, she tries again, averting her gaze from him in order to get the words out. “I’d appreciate that, Lucifer. Thank you.”

Glancing up at him, she catches that little half-smile he used to give her before...well, before. “Of course, Detective. Would you like more wine, darling?”

Chloe becomes more confused from there.

The rest of the evening is spent splitting a bottle of wine between them and while they do get through the security footage, and he doesn’t complain once, they spend more time laughing at Lucifer’s commentary on the people who come through the gate than anything else. It feels like they’re really partners again—and friends—for the first time in months and all Chloe can think is that she doesn’t want this to change when the case ends.

She doesn’t get it. Why he’s here. Why he’s treating her like she didn’t betray him. Why he looks at her the way he does when they both know he has a girlfriend at home. But the more she drinks, the more she just...she doesn’t care. Having Lucifer back at her side, making her laugh and seeing him laugh, feels like a balm on her soul.

Somehow, they end up sitting pressed right up against each other, Lucifer’s arm behind her as they go through another hour of footage. She’s more fascinated by the heat from his body; the way he smells; the way it feels when he shifts against her. It’s...distracting, to say the very least. She knows she should move away, but, well, she doesn’t want to. She wants to keep pretending for as long as it lasts. Pretending this is what they could have every night if they were together, a couple. Drinking wine and laughing and solving cases. Pretending that when they go to bed, they aren’t going into separate rooms, but sharing one, and they can lose themselves in each other before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

“Everything all right, Detective?” he murmurs near her ear.

She barely suppresses a shiver. “Yep. Mm-hmm. I’m fine.” Her voice is strained and a little high-pitched, and she knows he hears it. She can feel his curious, bemused gaze on the side of her face.

“Do I...” He trails off. Chloe turns to look at him, his expression uncertain, maybe a little self-conscious. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” she says too quickly. He stiffens and shifts away slightly, a flicker of hurt in his eyes for a moment. Without thinking, Chloe reaches for his arm to keep him nearby. “No, you’re not, Lucifer. I’m...” Struggling to figure out what she is, aside from heartsick, she huffs humorlessly. “I should probably lay off the wine, actually.”

Lucifer is frowning at her, like he’s trying to work out why she’s being weird. That makes two of them. “Right...” he says slowly. “Would you prefer to switch to water, perhaps?”

Chloe manages a nod and he immediately gets up to retrieve her a glass. While he’s gone, she drops her head in her hands and tells herself she’s being stupid. Nothing has changed between them, not really. They’re in close quarters and it’s just the two of them. Boundaries easily get crossed and it’s difficult, sometimes, to discern fantasy from reality.

Fantasy is that anything can happen between them. That she didn’t completely shatter what they might have had. That he doesn’t have a girlfriend. And even if he didn’t, Lucifer Morningstar doesn’t do commitment or real relationships. Certainly not with somebody like Chloe Decker. Fantasy is believing he really is in love with her, as he implied during dinner tonight.

Reality is, she did fuck everything up. Chloe could have had something truly incredible with Lucifer, but instead, she ran—not because she was afraid of him, per se, but because she didn’t trust herself or her gut or her heart. The latter was screaming at her for a month to just go home and talk to him; she ignored it. Rather than explaining that to him, she shouted at him that she’s terrified and didn’t know if she could accept him. Being Lucifer, he took that to mean she unequivocally couldn’t and moved on to someone who could. Meanwhile, Chloe spends every night alone replaying every screwed up thing she’s done and said in the last few months and wishing she could have a do-over.

What she can’t deny is that she wants him. More than that, she loves him. She’s been in love with him for longer than she cares to admit. But it’s too late. Too much has been broken between them and she suspects it’s beyond irreparable.

So, she’ll take what she can get. Lucifer, just her partner at work. She’ll take pretending to be married to him on this case and when it’s over, he’ll go home to his beautiful girlfriend and their life of debauchery and partying. And she’ll go home to her lonely life.

What else can she do?

Somehow during this case, they’ve managed to avoid kissing. Actual kissing. Every so often, for show, Lucifer will drop a kiss to her cheek or her forehead in front of other people to keep up their cover of an insatiably in love married couple. But that’s it.

Until today.

They’re at a backyard barbeque thrown by one of the neighbors and making their rounds both together and separately, trying to get as much dirt on these people as possible in the hopes that one of them is dumb enough to let something vital slip. So far, she’s gotten several tips on “improving her skincare regimen”, people trying to out-brag others when it comes to their kids, and comments about her charming, handsome “husband”.

Lucifer isn’t having much luck, either, it would seem. He’s been more affectionate and clingy this afternoon than throughout this whole case, and it takes Chloe a bit too long to realize it’s because women are trying to flirt with him. Every time his hand brushes along the small of her back and pulls her against his warm, firm chest, she reminds herself...it’s just for the case. Every time his lips brush her temple, she mentally chants he has a girlfriend. Every time he looks at her like a besotted, lovesick husband would look at his wife and murmurs I love you, Chloe has to blink back tears and say it back like she isn’t about to go insane.

Surrounded by a group of neighbors, Lucifer is entertaining them with one of his outlandish stories—that probably isn’t outlandish at all and actually did happen—and they’re all enthralled the way people always are around him. Chloe is barely paying attention, just enough to laugh or smile when the story calls for it, but she’s distracted by Lucifer’s arm around her shoulders, holding her against him. Hers is curled around his lower back, her thumb hooked in his (khaki) belt loop while her other hand rests on his chest. It should feel uncomfortable or a little awkward for them to be like this; all she can think is that it feels perfect.

She fits perfectly beneath his chin and against his chest. Their arms rest around each other fit like puzzle pieces. She’s noticed it before, when they’ve hugged in the past. Being near him like this feels right, even when little else is right in actuality. She both loves it and hates it.

Loves it, because she never wants to do anything but this for the rest of her life. Being with him. Touching him freely. Having him touch her back.

Hates it because...well, it isn’t freaking real. And she knows that when they go back to their own lives, it’s going to be that much more difficult to watch him with Eve. Or anybody else, for that matter.

Chloe doesn’t know what catches her attention to make her look up. But suddenly, she’s looking into Lucifer’s eyes—dark, glittering, happy. As if he’s enjoying this as much as she is. She isn’t even sure which of them closes the distance until they’re kissing—actually kissing. Lips pressed and moving together. One of his hands is on her cheek, holding her like she's precious to him. She’s pulling him closer. It isn’t the first time, or even the second, that they’ve kissed, but somehow, this feels...more. Those kisses were gentle and tentative, both following speeches from Lucifer about how she’s better off with someone better than him...or that he’s the Devil.

This one is something else entirely. He’s kissing her like he’s done it a million times in a million different ways. With confidence that she’ll reciprocate. With emotion. Like he loves her. And for a minute, she loses herself in it...until she remembers where they are and why and what the truth is.

Trying not to make it too obvious what she’s doing, she brings the kiss to a quick end and pushes him away. From the wounded look in his eyes that he quickly covers, he didn’t miss how she stiffened in his arms. Around them, people are watching them and crooning like they’re the most adorable thing to ever exist. Inwardly, Chloe is panicking. That wasn’t supposed to happen. They’ve been so careful to avoid actually kissing during this case (or at least, she has) that she thought they’d manage it for the entirety. She just...she can’t kiss him knowing he has a girlfriend. No matter the reason. Not him, and not with her feelings for him being what they are.

Lucifer’s arms slowly loosen from around her and he subtly puts space between them. For the rest of the day, he maintains that space and there’s an awkward tension between them that nobody else at the party picks up on.

They hardly speak the next day unless it’s for the case and even that is stilted. Chloe isn’t exactly going out of her way to avoid him, but that’s what ends up happening. She intentionally stays in bed long past breakfast time and fakes only just waking up, her heart squeezing when she finds a plate of french toast and bacon in the microwave waiting for her. While Lucifer is in the shower, she heads out on her own to canvass the neighborhood and when she returns a couple hours later, they can barely look at each other.

She keeps her head down over her case file whenever he walks into a room. Sometimes he’ll sit down and fidget for a little while as if he’s steeling himself to say something, then he just sighs heavily and leaves again. She feels even worse.

When they’re talking to neighbors, he’ll loosely hold her hand to keep up appearances, but he drops it the moment somebody isn’t watching.

For dinner, he orders takeout and they eat in their separate bedrooms.

Chloe falls asleep crying into her pillow and she isn’t even entirely sure why—

No. That’s a lie.

She hates this. That she got roped into this case in the first place and that she somehow made things worse between herself and Lucifer when it was going so well. She hates that she wants all of this to be real more than anything. She hates that she’s insanely jealous of Eve.

Lucifer’s happiness is important to her—incredibly important. He deserves happiness after everything he’s been through in his life and he’s happy with Eve. Chloe should be happy for him. She should support anything that puts a smile on his face. That’s what you do when you love someone; you put their happiness above your own, even when it's slowly killing you inside. And she’s so accustomed to putting everyone’s happiness above her own that it shouldn’t be an issue now.

It was a kiss. A stupid little kiss that probably meant nothing to him. It was for the good of the case and he was just playing the part of the doting, loving husband. Chloe is better than this. Or so she thought.

But it just...it hurts pretending with him when all she wants is for it all to be real. It hurts knowing it means nothing to him and he’ll have no trouble going back to his life with his girlfriend and whatever else when this is over. It hurts that Chloe will never get to actually call him hers. And she doesn’t know how much more of this she can take.

The next morning, she wakes up early with new determination.

Above all else, she and Lucifer are partners. True, lately, they haven’t been great partners, but they’re both adults and should be able to talk about things. Right?

Getting out of bed, she gets dressed quickly and quietly, and makes her way downstairs. She might not be the best cook—certainly not as good as the Devil who’s been cooking for who knows how long—but she can put together a decent apology breakfast. She’s just flipping the last pancake onto a platter when she hears soft footsteps behind her.

“What’s all this?”

Chloe turns to find Lucifer standing in the doorway, fully dressed for the day in his suburban husband attire—polo shirt stretched across his fit frame, dark blue jeans, and shoes. And an incredibly confused look on his face. “Um, it’s...well, breakfast,” she explains, gesturing at the scrambled eggs and bacon along with the pancakes. “Probably not nearly as good as yours, but you’ve been doing all the cooking, so I thought I’d take a turn. Oh, there’s coffee, too.” She reaches for two mugs, then grabs the bottle of whiskey he keeps stashed in the cabinet. “And orange juice.”

Blinking, Lucifer looks between the breakfast she made and her, his lips parted in delighted surprise. “Well, nothing is good as mine, Detective,” he says with a leering smirk that softens to something more genuine a moment later. “But I’m sure it will be delicious.”

Smiling in relief, Chloe carries everything over to the kitchen table, passing Lucifer the whiskey bottle. “I would have poured it for you, but I wasn’t sure on the coffee-to-scotch ratio.”

Huffing a soft laugh, he takes the bottle, fingers brushing across hers. “Thank you, Detective,” he says softly. “This looks lovely.”

Uncertain why her face is heating, she smiles. “You’re welcome.”

They eat in relative silence, though some of the tension seems to have eased just a little. Lucifer compliments her on the impeccable breakfast and her blush deepens, which amuses him all the more. It’s when she’s lost in her thoughts, trying to work out how to properly apologize and explain her behavior, pushing her pancake through a puddle of real maple syrup, that Lucifer breaks the silence.

“Is everything all right, Detective?”

Heaving a sigh, Chloe turns to him. His eyebrows are furrowed and she thinks he might be nervous. That makes both of them, then. “So this breakfast... I wasn’t just trying to be nice. I mean, yeah, that’s part of it, but it’s sort of an apology.” She shakes her head. “It is an apology.”

His confusion deepens. “Apology? Whatever for?”

“Yesterday,” she says quietly. “And the day before, at the party.”

Lucifer tenses a little and he looks away, swallowing. “Detective. You’ve nothing to apologize for. I crossed a line that I shouldn’t have, got a bit...carried away, and that is entirely on me. I understand why you...reacted the way you did.” Her heart sinks. So he was just playing a part. Of course he was. “I should have realized your fears haven’t just magically washed away. And for that, you have my apologies.”

Wait. What?

“My fears...” Chloe echoes.

Tensing his jaw briefly, he nods, staring at his plate. “Yes. I know that you are still coming to terms with everything that you...saw. And learned. I should have merely been grateful to keep you as my partner and kept my toes firmly on my side of the line.”

“Hang on,” Chloe says quietly, frowning. “You think...I pushed you away because you’re the Devil?”

He scoffs bitterly. “Well, why else? You said yourself you couldn’t accept what you saw and I can’t say I blame you for that, but—”

“Lucifer...”

“—well, I’d hoped. Clearly, I should know better by now.”

“Lucifer.”

“But that is no excuse for me to push you into something you don’t want, undercover or not—”

“Lucifer!”

Stopping abruptly, Lucifer watches her warily, his eyes a little wide and definitely apprehensive before he looks away again.

Chloe takes a second to push away her astonishment at how he read the situation so wrong. Of course, she’s been having trouble herself, trying to work out what’s real and what’s for the case. “I’m not afraid of you,” she says softly, going with the most important part first.

Lucifer looks at her sharply, clearly stunned. “You’re not? But I thought...”

“Yeah, I know what you thought. But you were wrong.” Taking a chance, she leans over and covers his wrist with her hand. He looks down at it with bemusement and something else she can’t quite read in his eyes. “I should have told you that a while ago. But a lot has happened and I pushed it aside.”

She didn’t think he would want to hear it or that he wouldn’t care. “Look, I’m sorry. For how I reacted that day when I saw your face. It wasn’t you that scared me, not really. It was a shock, because it was the last thing I was expecting, and I told myself I was afraid of you, mostly to avoid facing the truth. Which was that I didn’t trust myself or my gut.

“Everything I thought I knew about the world was wrong. I’m supposed to be this badass detective with impeccable instincts, and yet, my own husband lied and gaslighted me for months. I was engaged to an immortal criminal mastermind. My partner was the Devil. Instead of seeing what was right in front of me, all the hints and evidence, I ignored it. All of it. Because I didn’t want to face it and have my worldview changed.

“I was confused, more than anything. And in my confusion, I let Kinley manipulate me into almost hurting one of the most important people in my life. I lied to you and I betrayed you and I nearly sent you back to Hell—you didn’t deserve any of that; you’ve been nothing but amazing, Lucifer. As a partner and as a friend.”

Lucifer, who’s been watching her with parted lips, swallows hard, his expression softening.

But she isn’t finished. “Look, when you asked if I could accept all of you...I said I didn’t know. Because even though I came home and remembered everything I felt for you, everything we’ve been through, I was still a little confused. I was still trying to make sense of everything I learned. Of course I can accept you, Lucifer. I do accept you. The Devil and the angel and everything in between. Because you’re my partner and you’re my best friend. I’m sorry that I hurt you and I promise I will do my best to never let it happen again.”

Lucifer stares at her with wide eyes and jaw dropped. She’s never seen him so stunned by anything, not even the first time she kissed him on the beach. Finally, he seems to find his words. “Detective, I—”

They both startle when her phone rings. Biting back her frustration and irritation, Chloe glances at the display and sees it’s the Lieutenant. “Sorry, um, I have to get this. He’s probably calling for an update.”

Not meeting her gaze, he nods. “Yes, of course. I’ll take care of the washing up, Detective.”

After breakfast, they’re back on the case, setting aside their personal issues the way they always do when it comes to...well, them. Something has shifted, though, and she thinks it’s a good shift. Lucifer is back to pretending to be the doting husband.

They were invited by another couple to play badminton in a nearby court, and Chloe is searching her wardrobe for appropriate attire, when Lucifer surprises her with a delivery he ordered at the last minute. A badminton outfit, complete with short skirt. She almost refuses to wear it, but reminds herself it’s for the good of the case.

The look on Lucifer’s face when she walks down the stairs, though, makes it completely worth it.

She isn’t sure why it surprises her that Lucifer is somehow incredibly good at badminton. Her own talent is a little...lacking, since she's never played in her life, but he more than makes up for it and they easily beat the other couple. The husband spends a bit too long staring at Chloe’s legs and ass in her outfit, and when Lucifer catches him, he literally growls at the man who quickly backs off. And when the wife flirts with Lucifer, he doesn’t give her more than a cursory glance, instead making it quite clear that he’s with Chloe.

“Are you two thinking of having kids?” the wife asks as they pack up their equipment. “The schools around here are simply remarkable.”

Chloe starts to answer, but again, Lucifer beats her to it. “Oh, I think we’ll wait a while,” he purrs, tugging Chloe nearer and brushing a kiss across her forehead. “I want her all to myself for as long as possible.”

“I can certainly understand that,” Anthony, the husband, says under his breath. Lucifer glares at him, his entire body tensing. Chloe runs her hand down his chest and he relaxes again. “I just meant enjoy the quiet while you can, my man.”

The wife, Chrissi, giggles. “Just don’t wait too long. Parenthood is the most rewarding experience there is.”

Chloe actually agrees with that. Lucifer looks at her thoughtfully. “Perhaps one day,” he murmurs. “I can see a mischievous little girl who has us both wrapped around her finger, and undoubtedly inherited her mother’s intelligence and strength.”

“Or a boy,” Chloe says musingly, playing along. “Who looks exactly like you and can’t stop getting himself into trouble.”

Lucifer grins wolfishly at her. “Wouldn’t that be a treat for the world...”

As they walk back to the house, Lucifer seems lost in his thoughts. Chloe bumps her shoulder against his. “You okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, of course. Anthony couldn’t get enough of you in that skirt, could he?” His voice is a little tense and Chloe swears she sees the faintest flash of crimson in his eyes.

She raises an eyebrow. “Don’t pretend you weren’t looking, too,” she shoots back playfully. “I saw you when I dropped my racket.”

He smirks at her. “Yes, well, when the view is that magnificent, darling, who could blame me?” he says smoothly.

Chloe rolls her eyes, smiling for some unknown reason. “You’re good at this, you know.”

“What, badminton? Or appreciating the view?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

She laughs. “No. Being undercover. I had my doubts, even though I’ve seen you do this before. You don’t lie, so I thought you’d get tripped up on occasion, but you’ve been pretty amazing.” So amazing that she is still having trouble working out what’s real and what isn’t.

For the briefest moment, she thinks the tips of his ears turn pink at the compliment. “Yes, well. All for the good of the case, yes?” He averts his gaze. “I will admit, the question about spawn caught me off guard.”

“Well, you handled it perfectly,” Chloe says honestly, biting back disappointment again. All for the good of the case...

“Not that I’d ever...have offspring of my own, of course. I mean, can you imagine? Me, as a father?” He scoffs, spinning his racket as he walks.

Chloe actually thinks about it for a moment. She knows he doesn’t like children in general, but she’s seen him enough times with Trixie to know he at least likes her. Far more than he lets on. Then her imagination wanders and she thinks about him with a child of his own. A little boy or girl with his hair and his eyes who he’s completely besotted with.

“I can, actually,” she says quietly.

He blinks at her in surprise. “It would be catastrophic, right?” he says, his voice tinged with bitterness. “I mean, look at the example I have.” Glaring up at the sky, he shakes his head. “Even if it were in the realm of possibility, it’s far better that I remain as much removed from parenthood as I can.”

Without thinking, Chloe wraps her hand around his arm to pull him to a stop. “I don’t think it would be a catastrophe, Lucifer,” she says softly. “I’ve seen how you are with Trixie and you’re incredible. If that were ever something you’d want, I think you’d make a great dad.” She tries hard to not imagine him and Eve having a child.

“You can’t mean that,” he scoffs weakly. “Detective, you know what I am.”

“I know who you are, Lucifer,” she corrects him. “You’re more than just the Devil. You’re a good man and nothing you say can change my opinion about that. I think you could do anything you put your mind to.”

For the second time today, he looks completely stunned and she thinks his eyes are brighter than normal when they dart down to her lips. Swallowing hard, he averts his gaze. “Thank you, Chloe,” he murmurs softly.

Shivering slightly as her name falls off his tongue, she nods. “Come on. We have that dinner party tonight to get ready for.”

She doesn’t let go of his arm as they walk.

The dinner party is where things get even more complicated.

It’s semi-formal attire, which means Lucifer gets to break out one of his three-piece suits. For the second time today, there’s a delivery for Chloe—a dress that’s exactly her size and style along with heels that match. And that isn’t the only thing that matches.

When she makes her way downstairs where Lucifer is futzing around with his cufflinks, she takes a moment to admire him. This is the version of him she knows: perfectly put together and undeniably handsome. His suit is dark grey with a shirt that matches Chloe’s navy blue dress perfectly. Because of course it does. Lucifer glances up when she starts down the stairs and his jaw drops. She suppresses a smirk.

“Detective...” he breathes in amazement. “You look...”

“Nice?” she guesses with a raised eyebrow.

He scoffs, not bothering to hide how he’s checking her out, his eyes lingering on her legs—again. “Far better than nice, darling. Exquisite is the word that comes to mind, though even that seems to fall short.”

Face heating, she smiles, busying herself by checking her handbag for her gun and handcuffs. “Thank you, Lucifer,” she says softly. “You’re very handsome tonight, too.”

For once, he doesn’t respond with well, yes, of course I am, Detective. I’m me. In fact, he looks a bit bashful at the compliment. Clearing his throat, he extends his arm. “Well, shall we, darling? I believe we’ve a dinner party to attend and persons of interest to interview.”

Lucifer doesn’t leave her side all evening unless it’s to refill her wine. While she should insist that they divide and conquer the party, she can’t force herself to do anything but enjoy the closeness. She does manage to focus on the case and get a few pieces of gossip that could be useful. Apparently, the victims got into an argument with the couple Chloe and Lucifer played badminton with today—Anthony and Chrissi. Nobody seems to know what the argument was about, precisely, but there’s a rumor going around that an affair was involved.

Lucifer suspects the husband. “The way he was eyeing you today, like you’re his next meal and he’s salivating at the jowls,” is his reasoning. Chloe decides to test the waters. “What? Det—Chloe,” he quickly corrects himself, “you’re not actually going to go flirt with that oversized man ham, are you?” he asks in an incredulous whisper when she tells him the plan.

“I was, actually,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “You said it yourself, Lucifer, he couldn’t take his eyes off me. If he was having an affair and it’s the reason our victims died, we need evidence. Remember? Evidence?”

He sputters and stammers an argument she doesn’t listen to, taking her glass of wine when she holds it out.

Chloe fluffs her hair a little, scanning the party for Anthony. Lucifer makes a choked noise when she adjusts the top half of her dress to put her breasts more on display. “How do I look?” she asks quietly, finding her mark.

“Heaven-sent,” he sighs with what she wants to imagine is longing. “Just...be careful, darling?”

“I’ll be fine, Lucifer,” she promises, running her hand down his arm in an attempt to comfort him. She doesn’t think it works.

When she sees Anthony wander off to another room without his wife, she makes her move, pretending to happen upon him by chance. Anthony seems instantly pleased to find themselves alone in what looks to be a recreational room, complete with pool table.

“I thought there was something between us,” he says huskily, taking a step closer to Chloe. She resists the urge to back away from his halitosis. “Today on the badminton court. That husband of yours not satisfying you the way he should?”

Chloe plays coy. “Well, you know how it is. He works long hours a lot of the time and just doesn’t have the energy by the time he gets home.”

Anthony smirks, reaching out to brush some hair behind her shoulder. She shudders when his sausage fingers continue down her arm; he mistakes it for a shiver of pleasure. “Well, if you need some company or...anything else...”

“I’m not sure if—”

Quicker than she registers it, he has her pressed against the pool table and his lips are on hers, completely ignoring her muffled protests. She shoves against him, but he’s larger and stronger than she is and he’s got a tight grip on her hips. Before she can knee him in the groin, though, he’s ripped away from her and crashes into the wall. Chloe looks over and finds Lucifer looming over him, looking furious.

“I believe the lady said no,” he growls, his eyes bright crimson and glowing. He starts to grab Anthony again, but Chloe steps between them, her hands on his chest.

“Not here,” she says firmly, not flinching away from his gaze. Behind them, Anthony is groaning in pain and trying to pick himself up off the floor. “Undercover, Lucifer,” she adds under her breath. “I’m okay, I promise.”

Crimson eyes full of fire search hers and his hand tentatively touches her hip, where Anthony's hand was a minute ago. Chloe isn’t sure what he’s looking for, but he must find it. Or he remembers himself. Either way, crimson fades into brown and he looks a little awed. “You’re okay?” he whispers, cupping her face.

Chloe nods slowly, unable to resist leaning into his touch. “Yeah. Let’s, um, get out of here before we draw attention to ourselves?” she recommends.

“Right...”

Anthony and his wife disappear from the party shortly after. Nobody seems to miss them.

Lucifer broods on the walk back home—well, their fake, undercover home. His hands are in his pockets and he stares down at his feet. Chloe glances at him out of the corner of her eye, wondering if he’s still angry about the rec room with Anthony, or if this is about something else.

“You okay?” she asks quietly.

He looks over at her briefly and nods. “Yes. Just...lost in my thoughts. About the case, I mean,” he adds quickly.

“Right...” she says slowly. “Well, we can talk about it when we get home, yeah?”

Again, he nods, a flicker of anxiety in his expression. “Of course,” he says heavily.

When they get back to the house, she’s about to make a comment regarding what happened, but Lucifer seems too preoccupied. He makes a beeline for the kitchen and the whiskey.

“Can I get you a glass, Detective?” he asks when she follows him.

“I had enough wine at the party. Thanks, though.”

Pouring himself a glass, he goes over to the fridge to get her a bottle of water. “Here you are, darling,” he says absently.

“Thank you.” Her eyebrows are furrowed as she watches him. He looks...not quite troubled, but close enough. Definitely distracted. As if he’s wrestling with a decision. “Lucifer, what’s wrong?”

For a few minutes, he doesn’t say anything. His gaze is locked on the whiskey in his glass as he twists it in his hands. Chloe thinks his expression looks conflicted, as if he’s arguing with himself about something. Determination flickers across his face and he takes a deep, shuddering breath, looking up to meet her suspicious gaze. “I have a confession to make, Detective,” he says suddenly.

She blinks at him. “Okay. What is it?”

“It isn’t a coincidence that we’re on this case,” he says delicately.

Confusion washes over her. “Um, yeah, I know. We have the best solve rate, so the Lieutenant chose us.”

He shakes his head. “Originally, it was supposed to be Cacuzza and Martinez going undercover,” he corrects her.

She stares at him, her mind whirring. “What are you...”

Sighing, he leans back against the counter and meets her gaze. “I overheard the details of the undercover mission,” he admits. “You and I weren’t meant to have anything to do with it...until I approached the Lieutenant and made a deal to make it so.”

Realization dawns, but Chloe’s confusion is at an all-time high. “I’m not really following, Lucifer,” she says slowly. “Why would you...?”

Running a hand down his face, then through his hair, making it stick up in several directions, Lucifer starts to pace. “I’ve been trying to find a way to—” Shaking his head, he drinks, his eyes wild as they look all around the kitchen at anything that isn’t Chloe. “We were—” He growls in frustration, apparently unable to find the words to explain.

“Lucifer, you’re not making sense. Why would you want to go undercover with me when you could be literally anywhere else? Like...with your girlfriend.” She swears he trips slightly in his pacing when she says “girlfriend”. “You’ve spent months avoiding anything work-related, including me, which...look, I totally get. But what I don’t get is why you would do all of this.”

She thinks through the entire undercover operation. The way he never once complained beyond the token Lucifer whining. How he hasn’t once tried to sneak away to go back to Lux. How he hasn’t even mentioned Eve and now she thinks about it, she hasn’t seen him on the phone with her. Even when his phone is out, he’s playing Candy Crush or Farmville 2 or something. He’s been the perfect partner.

“Is this...a game to you or something?” she blurts before she can think about it. “Are you bored?”

He stops abruptly, his shoulders bunching as he turns towards her. “No,” he says, his voice hard. “Of course it isn’t a bloody game to me, Detective. There’s a killer out there, after all.”

“So that’s all it is? You wanted to catch the killer?” she asks skeptically.

A strangled sound is pulled from his throat. “No,” he says again, not meeting her eyes.

Annoyance rises in Chloe and she gets to her feet. “Then what, Lucifer? Why did you do this? Why are you doing this?” she asks, her voice getting louder with every word.

“Because it was the only way I could bloody well think of to spend time with you!” he shouts.

Chloe freezes. And so does Lucifer. “What?” she whispers.

Shoulders drooping, he irritably runs a hand through his hair again. “You and I have been...off, Detective. For months. And I thought it was because you were afraid of me. So I fell back into my old life of debauchery, with Eve. I pretended none of it mattered; if you couldn’t accept me, then...well—”

“You found someone who could,” she says quietly, staring down at her twisting fingers.

He nods, sighing. “Yes. And it was...nice. For a time. To feel accepted as the Devil. For somebody to want me because I’m the Devil.” He pauses, letting out a shuddering breath. “Except...that’s all Eve saw in me—the Devil. The rebel from the Garden who revels in debauchery and chaos and punishment. She wasn’t interested in the other sides of me. I could barely hear myself think with all the orgies she arranged. So...I pretended. That that was what I wanted, who I wanted. All those people expect me to be somebody I’m not anymore; somebody I no longer wish to be. And I had enough.”

Tentatively, he takes a step closer to Chloe as she watches and listens, her jaw dropped a little. “I broke up with Eve a week before we took this case, Detective.”

Her heart starts to beat harder, both at his words and the look in his eyes. She thinks she should say something to that, ask him if he’s okay, because she knows he’s never been through a break-up before. But no words are forthcoming.

Lucifer doesn’t seem to mind. And he isn’t finished. “Since then, I’ve been trying to...get us—you and I—back to what we were before...well, everything happened. Partners. And friends,” he says softly. “But I didn’t know how to do that when you were still afraid of me—or so I thought. Dr. Linda suggested I just talk to you, but I didn’t know how to do that, either. So when I overheard Cacuzza talking to Martinez about going undercover, which neither of them wanted to do in the first place, I suggested you and I go instead. We went to the Lieutenant, I made my case, and offered him a deal: you and I work this case, and I get his polka band an audition at a local club.”

Chloe frowns. “Wait. The Lieutenant is in a polka band?” she asks incredulously. Inwardly, she’s smacking herself for latching onto that, when it is so far from the most important piece of information here.

He smirks. “Yes, I was rather dumbfounded myself, but there we are.” His amusement drains quickly. “I thought this would give you and I the chance to be friends again, the way we used to be. Without too much distraction or interruption.” She should probably point out that they’re still investigating a double homicide. Instead, she stays quiet. “I hoped that you would see that I’m still just...well, me, rather than the Devil you were terrified of. And that you might still have a place in your life for me.

“Detective, you mentioned that you were surprised that I could be undercover and say the things I have without lying. None of it has been a lie—or pretend. Not from me, anyway.”

“I loved her from the moment I saw her.”

“I want to keep her all to myself...”

“She’s the love of my life.”

Love...love...love...

“But perhaps I’ve taken it too far. I should have been upfront with you about the case, and for that I’m—”

“I love you.”

Lucifer goes completely, utterly still. Chloe doesn’t even think he’s breathing. For all intents and purposes, he could be a statue...if not for the way his eyes widen and lock on her. “What?” he breathes.

Her heart beating in the back of her throat, Chloe closes some of the distance between them. “I said, I love you, Lucifer,” she repeats.

The responsible, rational side of her is screaming to shut up NOW, because she’s making a mistake; Lucifer doesn’t want her like that. He doesn’t do love or relationships or any of what she wants. What she truly desires. All she can think about is the lengths he’s gone to just to spend time with her again. To reignite their friendship and their partnership. That he broke up with his girlfriend almost two weeks ago, because she only wanted one part of him. Well, Chloe wants all of him. There’s only the tiniest part of her that is in any way impulsive, but somehow, that side of her is overriding everything else right now, with her heart cheering it on all the way.

“I have for a while,” she admits. “That's why I ended things with Pierce. It’s part of the reason I was so scared—because there’s so much I don’t know or understand and if I thought there was a gap in our life experiences before...” She scoffs wryly. “It’s why I wanted you to be my partner again after I learned the truth. And it’s why I pushed you away when you kissed me the other day.”

Lucifer’s head tilts slightly in bemusement, like a confused puppy. His eyes are even wilder than before and he doesn’t seem capable of speech at the moment.

“It’s also why I’ve been so weird on this case. I’ve spent most of my time telling myself that we’re undercover and it’s all pretend. That none of what you were saying or doing was real, and when this was over, you’d go back home to Eve and your party life full of orgies and whatever else. But Lucifer, I wanted it to be real. All of it. Every word, every action, every kiss. I want to be with you and have this be our real life—working cases and going home together to have dinner. Watching TV and laughing and everything else.”

“Chloe...” he whispers, his voice and expression full of awe and wonder. It’s the first time he’s said her name within the walls of this house when there’s no one around to hear. Every other time, it’s been Detective, which, coming from him, she’s come to think of as an endearing nickname rather than her title. But when he says her real name—Chloe—it sounds different from when anyone else says it, in a way that sends a shiver down her spine. “I want that, too.”

Heart stuttering, Chloe struggles to take a breath. “You do?” she whispers. “It’s not...too boring?”

A tentative smile pulls at his lips. “Darling, when you’re involved, nothing could be boring,” he says earnestly. He tilts his head in consideration. “Well, that isn’t quite true; nothing could ever make paperwork exciting. But otherwise...” He hesitates a moment, then brushes her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “That’s why I ended things with Eve. I’ve been pretending to be nothing but a top hat for so long, when in all actuality, I would much prefer the shoe life. A well-polished, red-soled Louboutin shoe, of course.’

Chloe huffs a wet laugh, remembering the Top Meet case and Lucifer’s desperation to prove he was a top hat and not a shoe.

“And I want it with you,” he finishes softly. “My Detective.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls something from it, holding it out to her. It’s a tiny, silver game token—a shoe. And if she isn’t mistaken, it’s the missing one from her and Trixie’s Monopoly game box.

She reaches out to run her finger across it in his palm. “How long have you had this?” she breathes.

“Since our last game night,” he answers. “I wanted something to remind me of what I could have if only I was a bit braver—and a lot more worthy.”

Letting out a heavy breath, she shakes her head. “Lucifer. You are worthy. You always have been.”

His jaw tenses and his eyebrows furrow, and something flashes in his eyes, too quick to identify. “I want to be with you,” he whispers, searching her gaze. “That is, if you want to be with—”

Before he can finish his sentence, she’s kissing him, her hands cradling his face. He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, then his hands find her waist and he kisses her back. This kiss is real and neither of them holds back. Chloe tugs on his bottom lip with her teeth, pulling a strangled groan from him, and she smiles against his mouth, deepening it and pressing closer. One of his hands holds her at the small of her back and the other slides up to cup the back of her head. He kisses her like it’s his dream job.

“Upstairs,” she breathes fervently against his lips.

Lucifer pauses briefly, looking into her eyes. “You’re sure?” he whispers, his own eyes darkening with heat and longing.

“Yes.” To punctuate her statement, she pushes his jacket off his shoulders. Grunting in frustration, because he has to let go of her, he lets it fall to the floor and then curls his hands at the backs of her thighs, lifting her like she weighs nothing.

Not once removing his mouth from hers, Lucifer begins to move. Chloe hums in approval, tugging at his hair. She feels more than hears the growl he makes as it rumbles against her chest.

When he tenderly sets her on the bed, he backs away, looking wrecked already. His hair is a mess from both their hands. There’s a light flush on his cheeks and his eyes, still wild, are almost completely black. He grins wolfishly at her as he crawls over her.

“It’s about time we consummate this marriage,” he purrs against her throat.

Laughing, Chloe starts unbuttoning his shirt while his hands wander. She couldn’t agree more.

She wakes suddenly in the middle of the night. At first, she’s incredibly confused, wondering why she’s so warm and so naked...and why she seems to be sleeping with her head on somebody’s chest. Lifting her own head, she blinks and remembers she and Lucifer are undercover. Then got under the covers, finally on the same page about their feelings.

He’s still fast asleep, head turned towards her. One of his arms is wrapped possessively around her waist. His hair is a complete wreck thanks to her fingers. Her thighs clench at the memory of why exactly she was tugging and pulling his hair. Her heart swells at the memory of joining with him for the first time. The look of reverence in his eyes the entire time as he moved in and with her.

Afterwards, he lifted his head from the crook of her neck and kissed her with such tenderness she nearly cried. He searched her eyes, then gave her a smile that lit her up from the inside and murmured for the second time in their partnership, “This is real, isn’t it?” When she nodded and said it was completely real, his eyes filled with an emotion she can only call love.

Looking around now, she tries to work out what woke her. Nothing looks out of place. Lucifer is breathing softly against her cheek, a faint smile on his lips—

A board creaks in the hallway. The staircase, she knows. And that only happens when someone steps on it. Which means...someone is in the house.

“Lucifer,” she whispers urgently, shaking him slightly. “Lucifer. Wake up.”

He murmurs something unintelligible and smacks his lips, tightening the grip on her waist.

“Lucifer! There’s someone here!”

“Hmm?”

“Wake. Up.” Chloe tries to roll away from him to grab her spare gun in the bedside table, but he isn’t aware enough and pulls her closer. “Lucifer. There is somebody in the house,” she says slowly and deliberately.

His eyes snap open and he blinks down at her in confusion, then her words process in his mind. “Who?” he murmurs roughly.

She shakes her head, finally succeeding in rolling away. By the time she checks her gun for ammo and double-checks the safety, he’s out of bed, and listening for any further sound. “I don’t know, but I heard someone on the stairs.”

“They’re at the end of the hallway,” he whispers after a moment.

Chloe stares at him in surprise. “How can you tell?”

“Celestial hearing, Detective,” he says dismissively, pulling on his pants. “Stay here, I’ll take care of this.”

“Uh, no. You won’t. You’re vulnerable around me, remember?” she says as she grabs the nearest article of clothing, which happens to be his shirt. “And I’m the one with the gun.”

He turns and looks at her, blinking for a moment as she stands in his shirt holding her gun, tucking her handcuffs in the V of the collar. “Well, in any other circumstances, this would be incredibly sexy.” He pauses. “No. It’s still incredibly sexy.”

Rolling her eyes and blushing, she edges towards the door, careful not to make a sound. A moment later, she feels Lucifer at her back as she silently opens the door and peeks around the edge. They can just see the outline of somebody slip into one of the other bedrooms—Lucifer’s bedroom.

A muffled sound downstairs catches Chloe’s attention. “There’s two of them,” she says under her breath.

Lucifer nods his agreement. “Split up, shall we?” he suggests.

As much as she doesn’t want to risk his safety, since he’s unarmed, she reminds herself he’s the Devil and can handle pretty much anything. She tells him to be careful and he repeats the sentiment, his hand brushing along her back as he makes his way down the stairs, avoiding the creaking board. Chloe watches him anxiously for a second, then creeps down the hallway towards the other bedroom.

Faintly, she can hear someone rummaging through Lucifer’s belongings. While they’re occupied she pokes her head into the room and frowns in confusion. She expected someone more resembling a typical burglar—dark clothes, some sort of mask or hoodie; instead, she’s looking at what she thinks is a woman—slight frame, long hair in a ponytail, and yoga pants—bent over Lucifer’s suitcase.

“LAPD. Hands up,” she says, keeping her voice low to avoid anyone downstairs from hearing her.

The woman freezes and stands slowly, turning with her hands halfway in the air. Then she seems to change her mind and reaches for something at her waist and charges at Chloe with a war cry. Realizing it’s a knife—the same weapon the victims in the case were killed with—Chloe repeats the warning and fires at the woman’s leg to incapacitate her. She drops immediately, this time crying out in pain.

Chloe kicks away the knife and reaches for her cuffs. She easily restrains the woman and turns on the bedside lamp to see who the culprit is. “Brenda?” she says incredulously, blinking down at the woman she and Lucifer had dinner with a few nights ago.

Brenda is glaring up at her. “I knew there was something weird about you people,” she accuses. “No one is that in love. You’re cops.”

“Oh, how wrong you are, Brenda,” purrs a voice behind Chloe. She startles a little and turns to see Lucifer standing in the doorway with Brenda’s husband Mitch by the scruff. Mitch is whimpering and trembling, and Chloe suspects he was confronted downstairs by the Devil. “Well, about me being a cop, that is.”

Chloe blinks, wondering if that means he really is that in love with her. Shaking herself, she straightens. “You okay?” she asks Lucifer.

His expression softens. “I am. Are you? I heard a gunshot, but clearly, you have it all under control.”

She smiles. “I’m fine.” She turns to their intruders. “You two, though... You killed the Gilmores.”

“Those idiots thought they were better than everyone else,” Brenda spits. “They deserved what they got.”

“No one deserves what you did to them,” Lucifer argues in a growl. Beside him, Mitch squeals in fright and tries to pull away. Lucifer yanks him back. “Why? Why did you murder them?”

“Brenda did it!” Mitch bursts out. “Tina kept winning best garden, every year, and Brenda always came in second!”

Brenda growls and tries to climb to her feet, probably to attack Mitch, Chloe yanks her down by the shoulder. “Asshole! You were right there with me because Tom beat you at the lawn competition—again!”

Lucifer flashes his eyes crimson to keep her in place. She gasps and falls back to the floor, wide-eyed and shaking and bleeding.

Mitch whimpers. “It’s true! Take me to jail! Just get me away from him!”

Chloe stares between them in disbelief, shaking her head. “You killed them because of lawns and gardens? Wow...”

It only takes a few minutes for a patrol unit to arrive after Chloe calls it in. They stand in the front door, watching uniformed officers lead their murderers away, Brenda to an ambulance. She glances around, seeing that most of the neighbors have come out of their homes to watch the show.

“Lawns and gardens,” she repeats incredulously.

“Surely that isn’t the most absurd reason for murder that we’ve investigated, Detective,” Lucifer scoffs. “I can think of at least five that were more frivolous.”

Snorting, Chloe shakes her head as the patrol car and ambulance pull away and steps back inside. Lucifer follows and closes the door. “Well, at least that’s over,” she says, relieved.

Lucifer stiffens briefly and looks away from her, a strange look on his face.

“What?” Chloe asks softly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly. “The case is over...and we can go back to our lives, yes?”

Something cold and hard settles in her stomach. “Is that what you want?” she asks, her voice tight. “Because I kind of thought...”

He glances at her for a beat. “Well, you said...you’re glad it’s over.”

“Yeah... Lucifer, I meant that we caught the killers,” she elaborates, assuming he misunderstood her.

He pauses and blinks, glancing at her for another beat. “Oh...” he breathes in realization. “So...I didn’t frighten you earlier when I...” He gestures at his eyes.

Chloe smirks, closing the distance. “Not at all.” She runs her hands up his chest, cupping his face, and brushes her thumbs beneath his eyes. “Kinda hot, actually.”

Lucifer’s breath catches in his chest and he stares down at her with stars in his eyes. Just as quickly, that expression changes, turning leering and seductive. “Oh, is that so, Detective?” he purrs, hands finding her waist, pulling her closer. His eyes slowly shift from mahogany to crimson and she shivers in his arms when they stay that way. “You should have said so earlier, darling... We could have fun with this...”

Before she knows what’s happening, she’s in his arms and he’s rushing back upstairs, kissing her passionately all the way. His crimson gaze never leaves hers.