Chapter Text
Starting with an oldie but goodie,
Minisode I:
When Hell Freezes Over
With all the confidence she could fake, Chloe marched into Lux.
Per usual, Lucifer sat at his bar, tumbler in one hand, decanter in the other, rocking a three-piece suit and smelling of expensive whiskey at ten o’clock in the morning on a Sunday. If that man ever dared to drink water or wear t-shirts, he kept it very hush-hush.
“Morning, detective. Afraid you’re about twelve hours late for the party.” He gestured about the club, only half-cleaned, strewn with empty cocktails and other unmentionable evidence of debauchery. “Or twelve hours early,” contemplated Lucifer, “depending how you look at it.”
Chloe crossed her arms and tapped her boot. He knew her well enough to recognize the ‘I’ve-got-a-case’ look when he saw it.
Lucifer stood with a flourish and bowed deep at the waist. “What d’you need of me?” He clapped and rubbed his hands. “A hammer of justice, a ruthless smiter of the wicked and d— ”
“I need you to babysit.”
Lucifer barked more than laughed. “As you once aptly put: when Hell freezes over.”
Fully anticipating rejection, Chloe launched into an explanatory tirade. Huge drug-bust downtown. She, Dan, the whole department called in. Her mother vacationing with her new beau in Punta Cana. The usual babysitter studying for finals. Nobody to watch Trixie—
“I’m your consultant, not your nanny!” ranted Lucifer. “Hire somebody off Craigslist.”
“And I’m a homicide detective,” gaped Chloe. “D’you know how many horror stories begin with the words, ‘hire somebody off Craigslist?’”
Mere mention of putting her daughter in danger plucked some inexplicably empathetic cord within the Prince of Darkness. His jaw twitched, and his head tilted, hallmark proof that Lucifer the Eternal Asshat was locked in mortal combat with Lucifer the Bleeding Heart.
As happened more often than not nowadays, the later won. Hands down.
“I won’t be braiding hair or indulging that ninja-chemist nonsense.” He sighed, displeased but resigned, and took one last, very generous slug of whiskey. “And the Underworld best batten down its hatches for a bloody blizzard tonight.”
As expected, Trixie was over the moon about this arrangement.
“Can we make popcorn,” harangued the child, “and watch movies all day?”
Lucifer’s face ignited in that devilish grin. “We can, indeed.” He knelt to her level. “But only if you’re a dear and tell me where your mother’s hidden Hot Tub Hi— ”
A pink and frilly Barbie DVD flew out of nowhere and clocked Lucifer square in the jaw. Chloe whistled innocently as he nursed his wounds, which actually bruised now. “Teeth brushed, homework done, tucked in by nine.” Trixie loudly protested, but Chloe was louder. “It’s a school night!”
Paying no attention whatsoever to the house rules, Lucifer had already hacked into Chloe’s tablet and found Angry Birds. “Oh, splendid. An outlet for my rage.”
Chloe pulled him aside, quite serious. “Trix has trouble sleeping when I’m not home.” She glanced over her shoulder at the annoyingly perceptive child, currently mulling over her favorite cartoons On Demand. “Don’t worry if she stays up reading until I’m back, or if she asks to text me before bedtime, or— ”
“I lorded over Hell since time immemorial,” assured Lucifer. “I got this.”
The sting took about fourteen hours, and she didn’t return home until well past midnight.
Chloe eased open the front door and crept into her dark living room, where the Mulan DVD menu played ‘Reflection’ on endless repeat and a blinking red battery flashed across the forgotten iPad upon Lucifer’s lap.
He snored a little, unnervingly at home on her sofa, lax face illuminated in the dim light of Disney icons and a tablet in desperate need of charging. Trixie was fast asleep in the crook of his elbow and stirred only when her mother eased her into her arms.
Chloe tried her best not to disturb the Devil himself. Still, better Satan for a babysitter than the Craigslist Killer.
And miracle of miracles, he actually got Trixie to sleep. Without her mother around.
“We watched all the sing-alongs, and I beat him at Candy Crush,” whispered Trixie, bleary but glowing. “He let me stay up past bedtime, but I’m not supposed to tell.”
Chloe snorted, carrying the little one to bed and tucking her in. “How devious.”
Trixie hugged her Uglydoll. “Don’t let him leave in the morning. Luci promised to make waffles.” She yawned, though still smiling. “We have a deal. He’s not allowed to back out on deals.”
Chloe kissed her forehead, and Trixie was asleep again before mother could ask daughter to expand upon her end of the waffle-deal. Chloe flipped on the nightlight, turned to the doorway, and came face-to-face with tall, dark, and hellish.
“Jesus, quit that,” she whispered, covering her heart. “You scared me.”
“Wrong Biblical figurehead,” corrected Lucifer with a sleepy smile. “The Messiah charges double my rate for babysitting. I’m a much better hourly value. And I can cook more than bread and wine.”
Chloe crossed her arms. “I hope my daughter didn’t sell her soul for waffles.”
“No, but she did promise to go to sleep without argument, if I stayed to make her breakfast tomorrow.” He tried and failed to flatten the wrinkles in his once-pristine dress shirt. “A little bribery goes a long way, detective.”
Chloe caught his forearm as he shuffled back toward the couch.
Lucifer braced himself to get kicked out — again. “A deal’s a deal,” he implored. “I’ve no choice but to stay here until morning, and what would the neighbors think about a handsome Devil loitering on your doorstep?”
“You’ll toss and turn all night on that sofa.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “C’mon, you earned yourself a bed.”
Even in the dark, that telltale flicker behind his eyes burned sinister and obvious, and his voice dropped a decibel or two. “Now for bonuses like that, I do charge extra.”
She clarified, “A guest bed.” Chloe pointed him down the hall and to the left, laying the ground-rules before she herself shattered them. Save her, forgive her, protect her, but Lucifer had grown on her, roguish and tempting and oh so beautiful, salacious smile and all, and she need only say the word to have him.
Though willpower, self-worth, and ‘forgetting’ to shave her legs were surprisingly effective armor.
Before vanishing into the spare room, he paused. “How’d the case go?”
Small talk took her aback. “Er— fine. Caught the bad guys. Saved the good ones. Nobody got hurt.”
“Glad to hear. G’night.” And that was that.
Chloe inched toward her own bedroom, her very safe and very empty bedroom, intent on locking the door behind her and barricading it with an armoire, because Lucifer was the Devil after all. A girl couldn’t be too careful.
Though she realized to her utmost horror, heartstrings humming at his mussed hair and gentle manner, such a fortress wasn’t as much about keeping Lucifer out anymore as keeping Chloe in.