A Place To Call Home

Word Count: 1557

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: angst, possible trigger, fluff

A/N: request from anonymous

Summary: He seldom came to this part of the city, where the people who resided would sooner rob him then help him. But he had a favor to collect on. While he waited to cross the street, he notices a small crowd of people and there you are at the center, torn clothes, dirty, and giving away all the money you had just collected from the crowd who had bought your art. He can't help but be curious and you soon find a persistent devil tailing after you. Wondering why you gave everything when it was clear you had nothing. 

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Lucifer sighed as he stood impatiently on the sidewalk. This light always seemed to take so long to change, with how old it looked he was surprised it even functioned at all anymore. He'd have crossed the street already, light be damned, if he didn't think someone might run him over. He wouldn't put it past anyone in this part of the city. Most watched him like greedy vultures, waiting for his demise, so they could swoop in and collect from his misery.

A small crowd of people gathered around someone who was sitting on a blanket. He didn't think much of it, they'd been there a while. He turned his attention back to the light, just in time to see it flicker before fizzing out all together. 

"Oh bloody hell." 

Lucifer glared at the wretched thing, looking both ways to see if he could safely cross. He wouldn't even be here if the Detective hadn't asked him to use one of his favors. He was beginning to regret agreeing. He'd been seconds from stepping off the broken concrete, and onto the street when he threw one last glance over his shoulder. The crowd had dispersed, and he saw the person at the center was now gathering their blanket. He watched you closely as you walked a few feet down, handing the cup of money in your hand to an elderly woman.

The two of you seemed to argue for a moment, but ultimately it seemed you won and you draped the worn blanket you carried over her shoulders. Lucifer watched you walk away curiously before changing his direction. He approached the older woman with a kind smile.

"Excuse me, do you know who that was?" He asked politely.

She regarded him closely for a moment, almost suspiciously.

"I do. What's it to you?" 

Lucifer smiled at the woman's attempt to be intimidating.

"I simply wish to ask her a few things is all."

He held his hands up, trying to show her he meant no harm to her or you.

"Her name is Y/N, she lives not far from here." 

"And does she do that often? Give her money away like that?" 

The woman shrugged, peering into the cup you'd given her.

"Yes, sometimes to me, sometimes to other people, I always tell that girl not to worry about me. She's worse off than I am. I've got my coat for the winter, but she insists on giving away her stuff. Her hard-earned money, she's talented, if her situation was different she'd have made a name for herself by now."

Lucifer was even more intrigued now, and he glanced down the street.

"There's a soup kitchen close by, poor funding but it provides at least three meals a week. Hardly anything, but it's enough to keep some skin on her bones."

Lucifer frowned a little at that, and the elderly lady began to gather her stuff.

"It's the alley by the old deli, you can't miss it, she's draped this old blue tarp over a few crates. Bit rough, but it gets the job done." 

Lucifer thanked the woman before going on his way. He looked around the area, searching for the place she had described. He found you, placing an unused trashed bag over a hole in your tarp. You didn't notice him lingering as you taped the bag down.

"Not exactly a five-star hotel is it?"

You jumped at the sound of his voice, turning to face him with unease. Lucifer took a step into the alley, making you take one back.

"Maybe not, but it does the trick."

He watched you shiver, saw the goosebumps on your skin as you stood there.

"I don't have any drawings left to sell if that's why you're here."

Lucifer looked around the place you called home.

"You don't have much of anything by the looks of it." He hummed.

Your unease was gone, replaced instead by annoyance and you crossed your arms. 

"It's better than what I had before... I was before." 

Lucifer frowned, tilting his head.

"Anyway, if you're just here to comment on my living situation than kindly fuck off." 

Your words were bitter, a stark contrast to the actions you had displayed earlier. Lucifer walked closer to you, but you didn't seem as hesitant this time.

"I apologize that was rather rude of me, I assure you that isn't why I'm here."

"Then why are you?" You looked at him skeptically, like you didn't trust his words.

"I suppose your act of selflessness quipped my curiosity so, I've come to ask you why." 

You looked at him confused and a little lost, and he continued, further explaining himself.

"You gave that woman all the money you made, from those drawings I'm assuming you spent hours making. Then you gave her your blanket, which by the looks of things was your only source of warmth for the winter, despite how tattered the thin fabric was. I simply wish to know why that is. Why share everything when you have nothing to give?" 

You stared at him a moment, studying him as you tried to gauge if maybe he had ulterior motive beyond his question. However, it seemed he really was just curious.

"Her name is Edrsia, she's almost seventy-years-old. She's not on the streets by choice, her son took everything she had and pawned it off. Her husband passed years before, and she couldn't afford even a shoe box size apartment. She helped me, when I first started living on the streets. So, I give her what I can, whether I can spare it or not."