Chapter Text
“Good morning, Detective!” Lucifer’s cheery voice echoes across the bone-dry, concrete aqueduct of the LA river that she’s had the fortune of spending her entire morning in, as he bounces towards her with a spring in his step.
It’s alright for some, she thinks as she lowers her notepad to peer over her sunglasses at him. He’s impeccably dressed— as always— in a black three-piece suit, accented with a pink and purple striped pocket square that’s folded in some complex, intricate way. His hair is perfect, with not a strand going astray, and he’s positively glowing with energy as he comes to stand beside her, as if he’s just woken up from a great night’s sleep.
She, on the other hand, feels awful. She’s been up since the crack of dawn, her hair is pulled into a messy bun, and she’s been working out here in the sun for hours. Her skin is sticky with sweat, and, rather unpleasantly, her t-shirt is starting to feel a bit damp too. The gloves she’s forced to wear to handle evidence aren’t doing anything to help the situation either; she can already feel the nitrile clinging to her skin with the wetness that’s accumulating inside.
“Good afternoon, Lucifer,” she replies, unable to keep the irritation out of her tone, even though she knows her partner all too well by now, and should expect this from him.
He’s her partner and she can rely on him when she needs him, but he’s also not one for sticking to the rules. He’s always going to be late to crime scenes, skip out on ‘boring’ paperwork, or find leads in not-strictly-legal ways. She shouldn’t expect him to change now that they are together, together.
As in dating together.
Which they are, and have been for a month or so now.
He tilts his head to look up at the sky, giving her a particularly nice view of his sharp profile which, she has to admit, helps to ease her simmering annoyance. “Oh,” he says, sounding nothing but carefree as he looks towards her once more, “so it is.” He smiles softly at her, in that way that could make her forgive him for anything, and adds, “Apologies for my tardiness. I’d say it won’t happen again, but you know me”— his smile morphs into a grin and he waggles his eyebrows— “I never lie.”
She raises an eyebrow at him and rolls her eyes, but is still unable to keep the fond little smile that tugs at her lips at bay.
“So!” He claps his hands together, a sparkle in his eyes as he surveys the scene around them. “What’ve we got?”
Sighing deeply, she shakes her head. “Not much.”
Their victim, a John Doe in his 30s, had been found by a jogger in the early hours of the morning and looks to have been here since last night. Ella determined that probable cause of death is internal injuries from a beating with a blunt instrument, but the coroner will have to check that. No weapon has been recovered yet, and no one in the area saw or heard anything.
So… not much.
“Ella has a theory that the altercation happened elsewhere, and the victim walked here before collapsing from internal blood loss.” She glances around them both, gesturing to the vast aqueduct that carries on for as far as the eye can see. “But,” she continues, turning back to a slightly less interested looking Lucifer, “so far we have absolutely no clue which direction he came from.”
Lucifer’s attention seems to be elsewhere though, as it often is when he hastily deems a case not worth his time.
Fortunately, she does know her partner well, and that means she knows exactly how to persuade him. Reaching out, she places her hand gently on his forearm, inching forward ever so slightly to close the gap between them.
That gets his attention.
His eyes snap to meet hers, something in those deep brown depths softening as he looks down at her. His lips part slightly, but he says nothing. In fact, it’s as if he melts completely beneath her touch.
“I could really use your help on this one,” she says softly. The urge to stretch up on her tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his stubbled cheek is strong, but she resists. They are at work and they need to be professional. That and the fact that they haven’t actually told anyone they’re together yet.
Things between them are nice right now, so as far as she’s concerned the less drama the better.
“Of course, Detective,” he replies softly as his hand comes up to gently brush an unruly strand of hair away from her forehead. The contact leaves her skin tingling and longing for more.
“Thank you.” They exchange another tender smile, and in that moment she wants nothing more than to just touch him, kiss him. To just be with him.
But she can make up for it later. For now, they have work to be done and a murder to solve.
“Don’t worry,” he says with a winning smile as he pulls away, “Detective Lucifer is on the case!” He winks, taking a step backwards before spinning on his heel and shouting, “I’ll find a lead before you can say ‘devilishly handsome’,” over his shoulder.
She can’t help but laugh (and also admire the view) as he walks away from her towards some yellow evidence markers that sit on the floor a few feet away.
After that, he wanders around the crime scene, doing whatever it is he usually does that finds them leads. In this case it seems to be walking around, examining what little evidence they have found with a rather displeased look on his face. At any normal crime scene, she wagers he’d be touching everything, but given that some of the items they’ve tagged look like literal garbage, she’s guessing he has no desire to be anywhere near it.
At some point, when she’s finishing writing up her crime scene notes, he disappears from her view. She doesn’t really think too much of it though. He’ll be back.
He always is.
In the meantime though, she should check back in with Ella and see if she’s come up with anything new.
“Hey, Ella,” she says as she approaches the area of concrete where a body was splayed earlier today. It must have been taken away by the medical examiner while she’d been looking around.
Ella looks up from where she’s crouched on the floor beside her forensics kit, repacking her camera away. “Hey, Chlo!” she greets her with a smile, far too cheerily for someone who has also been working in the harsh LA sun for 6 hours. “Any luck finding leads?”
Chloe sighs as she idly taps her notepad, feeling disappointment already settling in her stomach as her eyes take in the half empty page. “Nope,” she replies, popping the ‘p’. “How about you? Anything new?”
“Nada.” She shakes her head as she rises from the floor with practiced ease, leaving her bag where it is. “Did I see Lucifer here earlier?”
“Yeah, he’s somewhere around here.” She glances over her shoulders, quickly scanning the area for a tall figure, but doesn’t see him.
A deep chuckle comes from behind her, not Lucifer— Dan. “He’s probably gone AWOL by now.” He brushes past Chloe, bobbing his head as he comes to stand with the pair. “Pretty sure the guy’s allergic to a hard day’s work.”
Chloe sighs inwardly. Even after all this time Lucifer and Dan still take any chance they get to have a cheap shot at one another. “You don’t give him enough credit Dan, he is actually helping me today. I just don’t know where he is at this exact moment, that’s all.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal, because it isn’t. Lucifer just does this sometimes. He wanders off at crime scenes and more often than not comes back with a lead.
That’s all this is.
And she isn’t just telling herself that because the thought of him actually running away terrifies her.
“If you say so, Chlo,” Dan chuckles, folding his arms and shaking his head, looking around as if to silently say that she isn’t really proving her point.
Shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand, she twists around on the spot, squinting, until she spots his figure in the far distance. He looks like he’s navigating his way down the slopes at the sides of the river. “See!”— she points towards him— “there he is! And he’s doing— wait… What is he doing?”
The trio stare at him, trying to make out what he’s carrying as he strolls towards them at leisurely pace. As he gets a little closer, she can just make out that he’s holding something large and grey.
“You should know, Chlo,” Dan says, still focused on the slowly approaching Devil.
“Yeah,” Ella pipes up, “He is your boyfri—”
“Partner,” Dan quickly cuts her off, throwing her a scathing glance.
Chloe spins like lightning to look at them both. “You know?!”
Dan nods awkwardly. Ella just beams at her, nodding with enthusiasm.
“Of course we do,” she says, looking pleased with herself. “You guys are like so gooey around each other. It’s kinda hard not to notice.”
Directing her scrutinizing gaze at Dan, he merely shrugs and replies, “Trixie told me.”
Chloe sighs again, shaking her head in disbelief. They knew all this time and they never said anything? Well… that’s their privacy gone, but at least now they don’t have to worry about keeping their relationship under wraps.
Before she even knows what’s happening, she finds herself engulfed in a hug as Ella practically throws herself into her. “I have been dying to tell you guys how happy I am for you!” she squeals, squeezing her tighter with each second that passes.
“Detective!” Lucifer’s return thankfully saves her from being hugged to death by her friend. But… it also leaves her with more questions as she pulls away and sees him standing there with a great big fluffy grey cat in his hands, holding it like one might hold a bomb. “I believe I’ve found our witness!” He grins proudly.
Chloe blinks blankly back at him. Her mouth opens, but words fail to form on her lips. A few seconds pass before she manages to kick her brain back into gear and actually say something. “Lucifer…” she starts slowly, not able to keep from wondering if her boyfriend has well and truly lost it, “you’re holding a cat.”
He just nods, beaming smile still in full effect. “He saw what happened.” He then turns to the cat, still holding it away from his body— or more likely his suit— and says, “We made a deal, didn’t we?”
“Meowr,” the cat groans back, wiggling its legs in Lucifer’s grasp.
“Dude,” Dan drags out the word, disbelief creasing his features as he shakes his head. “You are totally nuts.”
Chloe chews on her bottom lip for a moment, watching as the creature struggles in Lucifer’s hands, trying to decide what exactly she’s supposed to do about this… situation. “Lucifer,” she says, finally deciding to have a word with him in private as she grabs his elbow and gently guides him away from everyone else.
He offers no resistance, and their friends watch for a minute before realising that they probably want privacy and go off to busy themselves elsewhere.
Lucifer looks down at her hand on his arm and then back up at her, still grinning, but now confusion creases his brows.
“Lucifer,” she says as she lets go of him, “What are you doing?”
His bright smile fades and the confusion that clouds his features multiplies tenfold. “Working?”
She finds herself caught off guard by how genuine he sounds. He’s always been weird, but this is a whole other level entirely. Her first instinct is to be worried about him, because whenever he’s acting strangely there’s always some drama, family or otherwise, behind it.
Leaning in, she looks into his eyes. His pupils look normal enough and his deep brown irises glisten as he looks back at her curiously. Narrowing her eyes, she pulls back to examine him more thoroughly. “Are you high?”
“Unfortunately not,” he answers, actually looking disappointed about that fact. Then he looks at the cat once more, his lip twitching with disgust. “Though I’m sure it would make this whole horrid situation infinitely more tolerable.”
“Meeeorrw!” the cat snarls, increasing its effort to wiggle its way out of Lucifer’s hold. “Rwor!”
An affronted expression washes over Lucifer’s face as he gapes at the cat. “I do not smell funny!” he snarls back at it. He lifts the cat up so that they are eye to eye, baring his teeth a little in a way that would almost be funny if Chloe didn’t think he’d lost his mind. “How dare you! It’s called cologne, Caron’s poivre to be exact, and not that your tiny feline brain could understand, but it is key to my ensemble and costs a thousand times more than you’d be sold for at a pet shop.”
The cat hisses, swiping at him with its paw and missing as Lucifer deftly dodges.
“Listen here, you furball, we had a deal, and if you don’t uphold your end of the bargain, I’ll toss you back in the dumpster where I found you.” He stops a moment, eyebrows rising as a sneer settles on his face. “Or better yet,” he continues in a hushed ice-cold tone, “I’ll drop you off at the nearest shelter, I’ve heard those places are absolute Hell for your kind.”
The cat falls silent, almost visibly deflating before her eyes.
Chloe blinks, briefly taken aback by both the severity of his tone and the insanity of him arguing with a cat. Reaching out, she moves to take the cat from him, which, unsurprisingly, he allows.
It’s lighter than it looks. Beneath the puffy fur she can easily feel that the poor thing is skin and bone. She gently cradles it in her arms, one hand instinctively stroking its head as it settles.
“Seriously?” She shakes her head, not quite knowing what tone she should be taking with him. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you in the middle of some…”— she rolls her jaw, searching for the words— “kind of crisis that I should know about?”
He frowns. “No. Why would you think that?”
Uh, why indeed. “Because you’re arguing with a cat, Lucifer.” She pauses, seeing the words clearly have no effect on him. “A cat!”
“So?” He stares back at her blankly. “You argue with your offspring all the time. That doesn’t mean you’re ‘having a crisis’.”
The urge to press her face into her hands and scream internally is strong, if only they weren’t already occupied with her new furry friend who is now content and purring away like a little jack hammer.
Somehow, she feels like she’s just going in circles with him, so she decides to start at the beginning. “Where did you find the cat?” Hopefully he didn’t snatch it from someone’s garden, or, god forbid, from a child.
He turns, pointing to the side of the river where she’d seen him walk down. “Beyond the fence there, in a dumpster.” Directing another loathsome glare at the cat, he adds, “He was crying like a little kitten.”
“Rowr…” the cat grumbles quietly.
Chloe instinctively scratches the fur behind his ears and instantly feels him relax in her arms once more. “And?”
“Well, we had a chat, and apparently—"
“Wait,” Chloe cuts him off, seriously feeling like he’s skipping over the important part here. “What do you mean you ‘had a chat’?”
Lucifer chuckles, shaking his head as if he’s forgotten some insignificant thing. “Ah yes, right, I can communicate with animals.” He quirks an eyebrow at her. “Have I not mentioned that before?”
She directs a flat stare at him. “No, you’ve not mentioned that,” she snaps back, doing a bad job of mimicking his accent. “Come on, this really isn’t funny, and do you honestly think I’m gullible enough to believe that you can talk to animals and have just never mentioned it?!” Scoffing, she turns away from him, feeling a sting at the fact that he seems to be having a laugh at her expense.
“Detective!” he says suddenly, a note of desperation to his tone that she can’t ignore. His hand reaches out for her arm, but he stops short. “Chloe…” Her name is soft on his lips and it causes her heart to flutter like a wild thing in her chest. He only says her name when he’s really serious about something. “Have I ever lied to you?”
He tilts his head to one side slightly, his dark brown eyes sparkling in the light.
Sighing, she drops her head a little, already feeling a little bit sheepish for thinking he would. “No.”
“I really can communicate with animals,” he continues to explain, something infinitely gentle in his voice as his hand finally settles on her arm. “It’s just not an ability that comes in handy very often, that’s all.” He averts his gaze, huffing a little. “I’m sure you’d try to forget it too if you heard how much pigeons bloody witter on.”
She can’t help but laugh at the disgruntled face he makes. “So, you’re like… Doctor Dolittle?” she says, already feeling her smile return.
“No, I am not like Doctor bloody Dolittle.”
Her smile widens as she looks at him fondly. She still finds it amazing how just being near him, just talking to him seems to improve her mood infinitely. He has the ability to instantly make even the worst days better, though she doubts he realises it. “If you say so,” she says teasingly, laughing again when he grumbles.
“Okay, anyway,” she draws out the word, her fingers straying through the soft fur beneath them, “even if the cat did witness the murder, and we can use his information to find the suspect, we won’t be able to prove they were at the scene.” She pauses for a second, realising how crazy she sounds. Using a cat as a witness. Is this what her life is now? “Not to mention we won’t be able to explain how we identified them to a jury.”
The cat perks up, looking to Lucifer with its wide green eyes. “Meeow meowr?” The tone of the meow is odd, almost as if he’s asking a question. It’s a little bit jarring to think that cats, and other animals, can understand them enough to engage in conversation.
She looks at Lucifer, waiting expectantly for him to… translate.
“I imagine it would, yes,” he replies to the cat, leaving Chloe out of the loop.
“Meow?” the cat responds.
Lucifer huffs, shaking his head a little. “Once you’ve helped us identify the killer, I will fulfil my end of the bargain. I give you my word.”
The cat gives Lucifer a wary look. It seems nervous. Maybe worried that Lucifer won’t give him what he’s promised him once they’ve gotten the information they need.
“His word is his bond,” she decides to chip in, turning the cat in her arms so that he can see how serious she is. “Trust me.”
He fidgets in her arms a little bit before seemingly conceding with a little content meow.
“Right,” Lucifer says, clapping his hands together. “That’s settled then.”
“What is?” Not being able to understand what’s going on is slightly irritating to say the least.
Lucifer beams proudly at her. “He’s going to take us to where the killer dumped the murder weapon,” he tells her, preening a little. It’s oddly adorable.
“That’s great!” A murder weapon will give them a solid lead, and eliminates the need to explain their strange witness to any jury, if it comes down to it. A murder weapon found at or near a crime scene needs no explanation really. So finally, they can get moving with this case and hopefully that means that her time roasting in the sun will soon be coming to an end. “Lead the way!”
She holds the cat out, intending on handing him back to Lucifer, but he just steps away from her, holding his hands up as if to shield himself from the frisky feline.
“I think the floor would be best, Detective,” he says, pointing to the concrete as he wrinkles his nose.
“Right,” she replies, unable to keep from laughing a little bit at his reaction. He really does not like cats. She seems to remember him saying he ‘detests’ them at one point. For what reason, she can’t fathom, though her best guess is that it’s probably something to do with keeping his precious suits clean.
She carefully places the cat down on the floor, making sure that he has all paws touching the ground before releasing him. He takes a moment to stretch out, which of course Lucifer grumbles about, before heading off towards the side of the river.
They both follow easily in step behind him. The sun is almost directly above them, only casting short shadows across the concrete aqueduct as the day stretches further into the afternoon.
Silently they walk side by side, eyes fixed on their lead as he scampers ahead, giving them some space. She reaches out for Lucifer, her fingers brushing the back of his hand before he realises what is happening and takes her hand in his, their palms settling together as their fingers intertwine.
She’s sure that she hears a happy little noise spill from him, but she doesn’t comment on it as she squeezes his hand, relishing the feel of his skin on hers.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks the question gently. He may not have gone off the deep end completely like she’d almost believed just minutes earlier, but he was still very late today, unusually so, even for him.
As with any relationship, communication is key, and with Lucifer… well, it can be challenging to say the least. But she’s trying. And she’s quickly learned that asking him outright about any issues, letting him talk about them, and making sure he feels safe enough with her to do so, instead of letting them simmer, works for them both.
He turns to her, confusion embedding itself in his features. “I’m fine,” he replies. “Why would you think otherwise?”
She shrugs a little, pulling his arm to close the small space between them. “You were just pretty late getting here today, is all.” She pauses a beat and then quickly adds, “You don’t have to tell me why, I just want you to know that if there is something going on, you can talk to me about it.”
“I know.” He’s silent for a minute as they walk, almost reaching the edge of the river where the sides slope up. He holds their still intertwined hands up, giving her his support as they begin to climb up after the cat. “I went to see Linda,” he continues, long after she thinks he’s dropped the topic.
He went to see Linda. It’s not their usual scheduled appointment, and he hadn’t told her about it in advance, which he usually does whenever his therapy interferes with their work schedule. So… she can only assume that it was last minute. Either Linda had to reschedule, or Lucifer had something he really needed to talk about.
Her first instinct is to ask him why, but she’s already asked if he’s okay and he says he is. She needs to trust him. And if he does have something he needs to talk to her about, she’ll have to trust that he can do that too.
She finally releases his hand as she reaches the top of the aqueduct, stepping onto the level ground once more, huffing a little from the exertion. She glances off to the side where the cat is sitting, waiting for them to catch up, probably unaware of how much more difficult the path he’s taking them is for a human.
Lucifer follows closely behind, his long legs making easier work of the sloped surface than she had, and stops by her side. He follows her gaze to the cat and then looks down at the floor. “It was a rather… spontaneous visit,” he says, seeming hesitant for some reason. “I apologise. I should have told you.”
“No,”— inching closer to him, she reaches out, pressing her palm to his stubbled cheek, coaxing him to look at her— “it’s okay. Really. You don’t need to tell me everything, I just want you to know that you can.”
His eyes drift closed as he melts into her touch. Her thumb rasps over his stubble in a soothing concentric pattern and in that moment, he looks content.
That is until the cat grumbles a meow out at them and he snaps his eyes open, baring his teeth and directing a deadly glare at the creature. “Yes!” he grinds out through gritted teeth. “We’re coming. Keep your bloody fur on.”
Chloe giggles as he takes her hand in his once more and storms off towards the cat. She can’t help but think how adorable he looks when he’s angry.
They wind through some narrow, grimy alleyways, managing to keep pace with their feline friend despite his vastly superior dexterity. They seem to be getting a bit away from the crime scene, and she wants to ask how much further, but stops short, realising that she doesn’t even know the cat’s name. If it does in fact have one. Lucifer had found him in a dumpster, and so he may not have an owner.
Do non domesticated cats give themselves names?
“Does he have a name?” she asks Lucifer, sure that he should know. They did make a deal after all; surely he must have gotten some details.
“Raffi,” he replies flatly.
She arches an eyebrow. “Like the guy that sings kid songs?”
Lucifer just shrugs. “How should I know?”
“Moewrr moew owr,” Raffi grumbles, clearly having been listening to their conversation.
“He said he didn’t pick it,” Lucifer helpfully translates.
Right. So, Raffi must have an owner or have had an owner at some point. But seems as he was in a dumpster— crying according to Lucifer— she imagines that the former is unlikely. Maybe the deal that he made with Lucifer has something to do with it.
She will have to find out at some point. If he is a stray, maybe there’s some way she can help. Scrounging for scraps on the streets of LA can’t be an easy life and he seems like a sweet thing, even if Lucifer would disagree.
Her chain of thought is disrupted when they come to an abrupt halt by the side of a particularly rancid smelling dumpster. Raffi easily jumps from the floor to the closed half of the lid in one smooth movement, and stares at them both from the vantage point.
“It’s in there?” she asks, knowing that she’s asking the obvious but also not wanting to go routing around in garbage without knowing for sure.
“Meow,” Raffi replies.
“He said yes,” Lucifer translates, his face scrunching in disgust as he takes half a step back from the dumpster.
She worries her lip between her teeth. The smell is really awful. Like week old meat mixed with dirty laundry and rotten bananas kind of awful. “Okay then,”— she takes Lucifer's arm, pushing him towards it slightly before he realises what is happening and plants himself where he is becoming immovable— “you’ve got longer arms.”
“Detective, this is Prada!” He gestures to his suit, looking completely mortified that she would even suggest such a thing.
Well, a girl can try.
She spends a good half hour after that waist deep in filth as Lucifer stands by watching with interest, sporadically taking swigs from his hip flask.
“Will this be much longer, Detective?” he finally asks.
Standing up straight, she shoots him a flat glare as she watches him tip his flask upside down over his open mouth, managing to gain barely a drop from the now empty container.
She huffs, shaking her head as she returns to her unpleasant task. “It’d go a lot faster if you actually helped for a change.” The annoyance in her tone isn’t exactly directed at him, but at the situation in general. She already knows that he would never help with anything like this. It’s just not exactly how she hoped her day would be going.
“I am helping!” he replies, sounding shocked that she would suggest otherwise. “I found our witness, didn’t I?”
Sighing, she stands up once again, stretching out her aching back muscles. The urge to wipe the sweat from her forehead is strong, but unless she wants to smear garbage all over her face, that’s a no go. “I know. Sorry. This is just gross and it’s getting to me.” She stays there for a minute longer, thinking about how much she wants this to be over and how amazing a shower would be about now.
And then, as she eyes the pile of bags that she has yet to search, something catches her attention. Wedged between two ready-to-burst garbage bags there’s a piece of metal, maybe a pipe of some kind. It’s a struggle to free it without spilling the contents of the bags on either side everywhere, but she manages it, feeling the thrill of victory course through her veins as she holds up the object.
It is a pipe, dented in several places on one end. It could easily match the bruises on the victim. And, if it is the weapon that was used, it could have fingerprints on it.
“Is this it?” She looks at Raffi, holding the pipe over the side of the dumpster for him to see.
The cat stares up at her for a moment. “Meowr.”
“He said yes,” Lucifer translates, eyeing the graffiti and filth-stained walls of the alley. “Can we please leave now? This place smells like a fourteenth century brothel.”
She can’t help but frown at that particular comment.
Lucifer just rolls his eyes and elaborates, “Bathing wasn’t exactly a priority for a lot of people.”
“Ah,” she replies, slightly intrigued, mostly disgusted. “Can you please help me out of here?”
He stares at her warily for a beat. Waist deep in garbage and probably looking like a mess, she can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t run away from her or worse, broken up with her. His life is usually filled with glamour and luxury and sometimes she worries that the messy parts of her life might put him off. But they’ve been partners for years and he’s stuck by her… most of the time anyway. It’s probably just an irrational worry.
“Of course, Detective,” he eventually replies, for which she is thankful for. She’s sure if she had to climb out of her on her own, she would end up on her ass.
He steps forwards, closer to the dumpster than he seems to be comfortable with and offers her his hand as she pulls herself up to perch on the edge, her legs still inside. Then his strong hands gently hold her waist as she swings her legs over the side, and she wraps her arms around his neck as he lowers her slowly to the ground.
“Thank you,” she whispers in his ear, still holding on to him even though both feet are firmly on the asphalt now.
His hands slide up her sides, his arms wrapping around her waist to encompass her. He’s bent over awkwardly, probably uncomfortably, but he holds onto her, nonetheless.
After a few beats of just basking in him, in how he feels in her arms, in the smell of his cologne, and the warmth he radiates, she pulls away slightly, Pressing a tender kiss to his cheek, feeling the prickle of his stubble against her lips. His eyes flutter closed for the briefest of moments, seemingly melting into her touch. She lingers for a beat longer, feeling content despite everything, before pulling away.
His eyes snap open as the contact is lost and he straightens himself, clearing his throat as though he’d forgotten himself for a second there.
Her cheeks flush when she realises that she’s managed to get a smear of some unidentifiable (and she wouldn’t want to identify it, even if she could) substance on the shoulder of his jacket. Cringing inwardly, she feels a pang of guilt wash over her. “I’m sorry.”
He follows her gaze to the stain, looking surprised. “Oh,” he says, a certain disappointment coating his tone, though he doesn’t sound anywhere near as upset as she thought he would be. “Not to worry.” He smiles. Not the reaction she thought she would get at all. “Nothing a good dry cleaner can’t handle.”
“Good,” she says smiling cheekily, “because I’d offer to buy you a new suit, but I don’t think I could afford it.”
He smiles a little back at her. “Well I appreciate the sentiment, Detective.”
She nudges him playfully with her shoulder, wanting to touch him, but not wanting to bring any further harm to his suit. “Come on, let’s get this to Ella.”
They walk back down to the main crime scene side by side, with Raffi trailing closely behind them. Luckily, Ella is still hanging around, giving directions to the other forensic officers by the looks of it.
“Hey Ella,” she greets as the trio approach. “I think we found something.”
Ella twists are on the spot to face them, her eyes filled with surprise. “You did?”
“We found the murder weapon,” Lucifer helpfully supplies with a proud smile. He gestures to the pipe Chloe is holding.
She scans over it for a moment. “Let me take a closer look,” she tells them distractedly as she takes the makeshift weapon off her hands.
They stand there for a few minutes while Ella closely examines every inch of the pipe methodically, even pulling her magnifying glass out at one point. The sun beats down on them and Chloe can’t help but wish she’d hurry up.
Finally, she lowers the pipe to look at them. “The shape could definitely be a match to the bruising on the body,” she says slowly.
For some reason, Chloe senses a ‘but’ coming.
“Buuut,” Ella draws out the word, causing Chloe’s worst nightmare to become a reality. At this rate, she’s never going to get out of here. “There’s no blood or trace evidence that I can see to prove that this is the murder weapon. Anything could have made those marks.”
“Ah!” Lucifer steps forwards, pointing his index finger towards the sky. “But we have a witness who saw the killer dumping the weapon.”
Ella frowns, briefly scanning the area around them in search of this mystery witness. “You do?”
Chloe feels herself panic briefly, reaching out to push his hand down. “No, we don’t,” she answers hurriedly.
Lucifer gives her a confused look. “We don’t?”
“Lucifer is… mistaken.” She clears her throat nervously. “Could you just take it back to the lab anyway? Maybe see if there are any fingerprints on it?”
The look she gets back from Ella is uncomprehending, but she seems to shrug it off just as quickly as it came. “Sure, I guess.”
“That’s great. Thanks Ella.” She smiles at her friend as she takes the pipe to pack away with the rest of the evidence that has been collected. Then, when she’s out of earshot, whirls on Lucifer. “Lucifer, you can’t just go around telling people that we have a cat as our witness!”
He frowns briefly glancing at Raffi. “Why not? Miss Lopez is an open-minded lass, I’m sure she’ll understand.”
She sighs, suppressing the urge to press her face into her hands. “That may be the case, but Ella still doesn’t know about you.” As far as she knows, Linda is the only other human aside from herself who knows about Lucifer’s true identity. She’s always been fine with him being honest, but she has to draw a line at him going around telling people he’s talking with a cat. “We don’t know how she will react if we tell her, and it’s fruitless anyway, because we can’t officially use Raffi as a witness.”
He doesn’t say anything to that, but for a moment it looks like he might argue the point.
“Please can we just keep the witness thing between us for now?” she asks him gently. “At least until we have no other options?”
“As you wish, Detective,” he says, sighing softly.
“Great! Thank you, Lucifer.” She smiles widely at him. “I’m gonna head home and take a shower, but I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
“Tomorrow?” he replies, sounding confused as she leans up on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to his momentarily stunned lips.
She hums against him in response, savouring the feel of him against her before pulling away. “Yeah, we can see if Raffi can identify our suspect.”
“Ah… right. Of course.”
“Anyway, I should get going if I wanna pick Trix up in time.” She’s already walking away from him, but is still looking at him as he stands there looking confused.
“Detective!” he calls after her. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Stopping in her tracks, she feigns searching for the thing she’s supposedly forgetting, knowing damn well what he’s referring to. “No?”
“What am I supposed to do with”— He points to Raffi who is currently sitting on the floor, hunched over, licking between his legs— “this?”
She shrugs, unable to help but laugh at the complete and utter disdain that saturates his features as he eyes the cat. “He’s your witness,”— she continues backing away, smiling impishly— “your responsibility.”
His face drops.
“I love you. Have fun!”
The last thing she sees as she turns her back on them is Lucifer staring back at her with his mouth agape as his new friend meows at him as he paws at his pants leg.
Watching this play out is going to be fun.