Chapter Text
Lucifer Morningstar was going to drive Chloe completely insane. Every time she had to interact with the man, he found a new way to get under her skin and tweak all of the strings that held down her fraying patience.
It had started with him butting his way into her investigation into Delilah’s death. Then smoking evidence at a crime scene, treating her like his own personal police concierge, and just generally turning up like a bad penny every time she turned around.
The document she started compiling on her computer, titled ‘That God-Damned Man’, began as a way to let off steam. It was either that or inevitably blow up at him, in person, at the worst possible time. His incessant attempts to get her into bed, his concerning levels of alcohol consumption, his sudden bursts of anger and physical threats, his utter disregard for any kind of normal boundaries… and who could forget the ‘Devil’ thing? She quickly compiled a detailed list of grievances long enough that she ended up having to organize it by topic.
His sudden violence with Benny Choi, and Benny’s subsequent terror, was the most recent of her long list of complaints. Chloe scrolled through her document, rereading some of her earlier notes while she looked for the section that detailed all of Lucifer’s violent outbursts. Something pinged in her subconscious and made her stop. Something about the boundaries issues and risky behavior. She reread her notes again, more carefully, and felt her heart drop straight through the floor.
Major substance abuse.
Risky, self-destructive, and impulsive behavior.
Anger and anxiety.
Inability to form healthy, mature relationships—both platonic and romantic.
Age-inappropriate behavior.
Self-blame, guilt, and low self-esteem (to the point he considered himself the Devil).
The sudden switch in his demeanor when she’d almost touched his scars.
Rampant promiscuity, not to mention Lucifer’s transactional approach to sex that she’d witnessed during their interaction with Dr. Martin.
Suddenly, Lucifer’s disregard for boundaries made all too much sense, and Chloe wanted to kick herself. Hard. She felt like a complete asshole. Lucifer wasn’t being a dick on purpose… well, most of the time. There was a really good chance that, in many cases, he really hadn’t been taught any better.
The next time he propositioned her (she didn’t have to wait long), she decided to try a different approach.
“I am now an official civilian consultant for the LAPD,” he proudly informed her while Olivia gave her interview. “Not that there’s anything civil about the Devil. What fun would that be?”
“Okay, then,” Chloe said, with far less resignation than he’d expected. “You win. We’re partners.”
“What, you’re not going to protest?”
“Actually, no. I may have no idea what your angle is, but… at least now I can keep my eye on you. Keep your enemies close, right?”
“Close? So, does this mean you’re going to take me home and consummate our new arrangement, Detective?”
She eyed him for a moment, considering. “…Lucifer?”
“Detective,” he purred back, leaning even further into her space.
“Do you… genuinely… not know why I won’t sleep with you?”
“Well, of course not!” he replied. “You’ve never given me a reason, you know.”
“And me not wanting to isn’t a reason?”
He drew back a little, clearly affronted. “Of course it is, darling.” He paused, head tilting in consideration, then swayed back into her space. “But you’ve never said that, either,” he pointed out, seductive charm dripping from every word.
Chloe took a breath. She flexed her hands in and out of fists. She had a point to this and she was not going to let him get under her skin before she gave it a try. “I’m not interested in casual sex,” she told him, making sure to enunciate clearly. He opened his mouth, confusion painted across his face, but she forged on. “I’m pretty sure you have every STD known to man, and I don’t want to risk exposure to that. You’re really annoying sometimes—”
He scoffed. “Annoying!?”
“—And, you know, that’s kind of a turn-off. And you’re completely self-centered, which is a huge turn-off. That’s why I don’t want to sleep with you.”
Lucifer blinked at her, speechless.
“Any questions?”
He kept staring at her. Great, she’d broken him.
“Well, come on,” she said impatiently. “You need a ride home, or not?”
He did have questions.
Questions which he decided to ask while she was in the middle of a storage warehouse staring at a dead security guard, surrounded by her colleagues.
“When you say ‘casual sex’—”
Chloe squeezed her eyes shut. Of course he’s doing this now.
“—Do you…” He trailed off, suddenly horrified. “Oh, darling, please tell me you’ve had sex with more than just the one person!”
The officers around them glanced in their direction, and Chloe had to tell herself several times that the temporary humiliation would be worth it if Lucifer would finally stop trying to get into her pants. “What are you talking about?!” she whispered at him, hoping against hope that he’d take the hint and match her volume.
“Well, you’ve only been married once,” he said—at his normal volume, naturally—and held out a hand as if presenting her with a perfectly reasonable argument. “You said it yourself, that you’re not interested in casual sex. Therefore…”
She snatched the outstretched hand and, ignoring his squawking protests, used it to haul him outside, where there were at least fewer people around to overhear them. “Lucifer, you don’t have to be married in order to have a committed, monogamous relationship with someone!”
That seemed to throw him for a loop. He pondered the concept for several blissfully silent seconds. “What’s the difference?”
She stared at him incredulously, mouth hanging open. A few days before, she would have snapped at him and then ignored him for the next hour. Now, though, she took in his baffled expression, oddly innocent considering his proclivities, and thought to herself: I. Freaking. Knew it!
“Marriage is for—” She caught herself, thinking about her failed marriage to Dan. “It’s supposed to be for life. But not everybody wants that.”
“So… instead of promising a lifetime, you have sex with just that person, on the assumption that you’ll later have sex with a different person?” From his incredulous tone, he found the whole concept ridiculous.
“It’s not like you go into a relationship assuming it’s going to end! You hope it’ll last.”
Lucifer nodded thoughtfully, but then turned a narrow-eyed expression on her as if she was trying to trick him. “That still doesn’t explain why anyone would rather have sex with fewer people, though.” He scoffed. “One at a time! Doesn’t that get boring?”
Chloe didn’t even have to ask to know that Lucifer had never, ever been in a committed relationship. “Sex can be much more meaningful when you’re in that kind of relationship with someone,” she said, trying to keep her growing impatience out of her voice.
He looked extremely doubtful, but he also looked like he was taking her seriously. For once. “And… that’s what you want?” he asked. “Meaningful sex?”
“Yes, Lucifer. I want meaningful sex.” She smiled tightly. “With someone who’s not annoying, self-centered, or riddled with STDs.”
Somehow, this shut him up for the rest of the time it took for her to examine the crime scene. In the back of Chloe’s head, there were fireworks going off and a full seventy-six trombones leading a celebratory parade. Until they were walking back to her cruiser and he asked, very seriously, “How long does a relationship have to be, for the sex to be meaningful?”
Chloe sighed. “Lucifer?”
“Yes, Detective?”
“Talking about sex in public is annoying.”
Forty minutes later, she did a double-take when she saw him sitting on her desk at the precinct. “What the hell, Lucifer? I just dropped you off at Lux!”
“Yes, and I am very appreciative of that, Detective. As a matter of fact, as soon as I got inside, dear Maze informed me that the stolen container was mine! Can you imagine?”
“Your container?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Your container was in a facility known for housing illegal contraband?”
“Ooh, I didn’t know that!” He was delighted. “But very fitting, don’t you think?”
Chloe sighed. “Asking the obvious, here, but did your container have illegal contraband?”
“Define ‘illegal’,” he said playfully.
Direct questions, Chloe reminded herself. “What was in the container?”
“A personal item. A, um, gift from my Dad.”
She pursed her lips in frustration. “Right. Okay. Look, I’m not making a… a deal with you…”
“No?”
“No. But, Lucifer, I have been answering your questions, haven’t I?”
“Well… yes. I suppose you have.”
“Some pretty personal questions?”
He gave her a salacious smile.
“So,” Chloe said, “maybe it would be fair if you answered mine, too?”
His face fell into a disgruntled pout. She had a point and, for once, he had to admit it. “Very well, Detective. The container held a set of Russian dolls.”
“A set of…?”
“Russian dolls, yes.”
“…Russian dolls.” There was no way. “Really?”
“Yes! Really!”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “If I find out you’re lying…”
“I have never lied to you, Detective,” he said, suddenly serious. His eyes were solemn as he held her gaze. “And I will never lie to you. Now, are we quite done asking repetitive questions? Because I’ve got a lead.”
“Why didn’t you lead with that?!”
“You didn’t ask,” he said smugly. “Shall we?”
“So… The snow cone guy?”
“Mm,” Lucifer replied absently, more interested in studying the flavors on offer. “His name’s Frankie Costa, and his real job is transporting and storing illegal goods.”
“Got it.” She flashed her badge when they got to the front of the line. “Frankie Costa? LAPD. We’ve got some qu—”
He bolted.
Well, he tried to. Lucifer caught him by the collar as he dove out the back of his truck and flung him up against the side, making the metal protest as it buckled. “Frankie!” he exclaimed, a predator’s smirk on his face. “Frankie, Frankie, Frankie, where do you think you’re going?”
“You’ve got the wrong guy, I swear!” the man protested, holding up both hands.
“Don’t lie to me, Frankie,” Lucifer growled. “Maze set up the warehouse through you, personally.” He looked over his shoulder at Chloe. “So if someone knew to rob it, he’d be involved. Isn’t that right, Frankie?” he finished, turning his hypnotic glare back onto the man cowering in front of them.
“I wouldn’t steal from my own operation,” Frankie blurted. “That warehouse is off-limits. I’m trying to get out of the storage racket.”
“Yes, focus, Frankie. Who took my property?”
“I don’t know! I’m trying to find out, myself. It’s bad for business.”
“And who would know about the storage service?” Chloe asked.
Frankie squirmed, trying to get free. “Hey, man, aren’t you the police? I have rights!”
“I am,” Chloe said. She nodded towards Lucifer with a glint in her eye. “But he’s not. So, say, if I were to walk away, he could do whatever he wants to you.”
Lucifer turned his head and gave her an impressed look.
“Or, if you’re not responsible,” she continued, “you can point us in the direction of someone who is. Cool?” Chloe smirked; Lucifer waggled his eyebrows at the guy.
“Okay, okay.” Frankie huffed. “Los Diablos.”
“The biker club?” Chloe asked.
“Yeah. I run the warehouse, but they run the docks. If anything went down, they would know about it.”
Lucifer wasn’t convinced; he tightened his grip on Frankie’s collar, lifting him up by an inch.
“That’s all I know,” Frankie gasped. “I swear.”
Lucifer wasn’t going to let him down, but Chloe put a hand on his arm. “All right,” she said. “That’s enough.”
Lucifer sighed. “Fine.” He tossed the man to the side, then clambered into the open back of the truck. When he came out, he had a red snow cone in his hand.
“That was incredible,” he said as they walked along the beachfront. “It was musical, poetic really. We were like fish and chips. Salt and pepper. Hipsters and condescension.”
Chloe sighed and shook her head. “We’ve really got to talk about excessive force.”
“What do you mean, Detective?” he asked through a mouthful of snow cone. “He told us everything we wanted to know, didn’t he?”
“Grabbing him by the collar… okay, yeah,” she admitted. “It’s a little forceful, but you probably wouldn’t get in trouble for it. The guy was trying to run away and you caught him, so… Thank you. But, Lucifer, you dented the guy’s truck with him!”
“So?”
“So?!” she echoed. She shook her head in disbelief. She thought about Trixie, getting bigger every day, playing the same game of ‘yank Mommy’s arms’ that was cute when she was two years old, except when an eight-year-old did it, it hurt. “Look, you’re really strong, right? Like, a lot stronger than most people.”
“You might even say devilishly strong,” he replied with a grin.
“Yeah. Well, you use that kind of strength against people, they’re going to get hurt.”
“Yes, that’s the point, Detective,” he said, all innocence if it weren’t for the actual words he was saying.
She stopped and made him look her in the eye. “You shouldn’t do it. Okay? Do you want the moral reason or the practical reason?”
He looked genuinely perplexed. “Well, both, I suppose.”
“Okay, well, the moral reason is, he didn’t deserve to get hurt like that. The practical reason is, if he complains, I could get in trouble.”
“The miscreant tried to run away! Surely, that—”
“He deserved fractured vertebrae for trying to run away?”
“I—” He paused, and his face fell as he realized what she was saying. “Ah. Yes, I see. Perhaps it was a disproportionate punishment. Very well, Detective. I shall do my best to remember my own strength, and not cause undeserved harm.”
Chloe immediately spotted the loopholes he’d left himself, but it was a far better concession than she’d expected, so she let it lie for the moment. “Thank you.”
They started walking again, and Lucifer dug back into his snow cone. “So! Under what rock will we find Los Diablos? It’s a very on-the-nose name, if you ask me.”
“Actually, I have to go pick Trixie up from school. I can drop you off at Lux?”
Lucifer beamed at her. “That would be lovely, Detective, thank you. Ooh, actually—” He checked his watch. “Could you take me to Dr. Martin’s? My appointment is in twenty minutes.”
“Dr. Martin?”
“You remember! The therapist? I’m a client of hers,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice.
“You’re seeing a therapist? Wow, uh…” Chloe would never have expected that, but she was impressed. “Good for you. Yeah, sure.”
Lucifer grinned again. “Lovely!”
“It was marvelous, Doctor!” Lucifer enthused. “She told me exactly what she desired! She even answered my questions, rather than getting all huffy at me like she normally does!”
“And you appreciated that,” Linda said.
“Of course I appreciated it! Now I know exactly what I have to do in order to get her to have sex with me.”
“Which is what?”
“Why, convince her I’m neither annoying nor self-centered, of course.”
For a moment, Linda looked like she was choking. “I see.”
“And that I’m not ‘riddled with STDs’, as she puts it,” Lucifer continued, making air quotes around the phrase the Detective had used. “Obviously, I can’t catch human diseases, but it should be simple enough to find a doctor who can put that on paper for her.”
Having met Chloe, Linda knew she needed to press just a little more. “So, Chloe informed you that she’d have sex with you if you weren’t annoying or self-centered, and didn’t have any STDs?”
The ever-scrupulous Devil hedged a bit at that. “She… Well, she said she wanted ‘meaningful sex with someone who’s not annoying, self-centered, or riddled with STDs’.”
There it was.
“It sounds like Chloe had one more condition,” Linda observed.
Lucifer leaned back into the couch and pouted. “What does that even mean, ‘meaningful sex’? Why does sex have to have meaning? Besides pleasure, of course.”
“Sex is a form of physical intimacy,” Linda explained. “You could get the same pleasurable sensations all by yourself, with the right… Let’s call them ‘tools’. The only thing missing would be the physical closeness to another person.”
“Yes, but that’s not nearly as fun!”
“Exactly.” Linda gave him an encouraging smile. “The intimacy of sharing that act with another person is part of the appeal. Emotional intimacy, which Chloe is most likely referring to when she talks about ‘meaningful sex’, can add to that appeal even more.”
That sounded… logical. Even if he’d never experienced it himself. He considered this for a little while—it didn’t sound like his idea of fun, but it was something new. Novelty, for a being older than time, was certainly an enticing prospect. Even if the Detective’s own stated requirements for ‘meaningful sex’—commitment and (he shuddered) monogamy—sounded torturously boring. Maybe the anticipation would be pleasurable enough to make it worthwhile. It could be a new kind of edging, he reasoned to himself.
“Very well, Doctor. So, how do I do that?”
“Do—?”
“Emotional intimacy,” he said, gesturing impatiently. “How does it work? Something analogous to foreplay, I assume?”
Linda blinked at him. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Another blink. And to think, she thought to herself, this is progress. She sighed internally. Damn it. I have to stop sleeping with him.