3. Three

The moment Michael walks in the door, it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. 

Chloe has never been one to feel unsettled by people, no matter how dangerous they are. She’s a cop, after all, and a damn good one at that. Michael isn’t the first person who’s held her against her will, and he’s definitely not the first asshole who tried to get in her head. She knows how to handle guys like him. But when he walks in the door and winks at her like they have some inside joke, she feels nauseous.  

Then her instincts kick in. She straightens, and her hand moves toward her hip even though her gun is in her purse. She meets Michael’s gaze without flinching or blinking, and as he leers at her, she glares at him. 

“Miss me?” he asks her. 

“Like I miss having the flu,” she retorts. 

Lucifer, who was standing ramrod straight next to her like he was preparing for a fight, turns to look at her with a grin. “Oh well done, Detective. I assume you chose the flu because his presence makes you want to vomit uncontrollably?”

Chloe smirks. “That would be a correct assumption.”

Lucifer laughs delightedly and looks over his shoulder at his father. “Isn’t she incredible?”

“All right,” Amenadiel says in that voice he uses when he’s trying to keep the peace. “Let’s try to keep the insults to a minimum this evening.”

“Why on earth would we do that?” Lucifer asks, turning to face Amenadiel with a scandalized look. “If you expect me to sit silently through dinner with the psychotic git who kidnapped my girlfriend, you’re a bloody fool.”

“Sam—Lucifer,” John says. “I understand your frustration.”

“Oh do you?” Lucifer says. He runs his hand along the small of Chloe’s back. “Well would you look at that, Detective. Your first celestial family gathering and you’ve already witnessed a miracle.”

John seems unbothered by Lucifer’s snark. He turns his gaze toward the front door. “Michael?” he prompts, his eyebrows raised.

Michael clears his throat. “I’d like to apologize, Lucifer.” 

Chloe’s mouth falls open.

“You want to do what? ” Lucifer says incredulously. 

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” Michael continues, hanging his head. “I never planned to hurt the Detective and I’m deeply sorry if I made either of you think otherwise. I just wanted to talk.”

Chloe feels her temper flare. She’s seen enough grief and remorse in her line of work to know when it’s real. And this? This is the most bullshit apology she’s ever witnessed. 

“So you came into my house uninvited, knocked me unconscious, and stuck me in a cage because you wanted to talk to me?” she asks. 

Michael smirks. “You’re a sparkling conversationalist, Detective, but no. I wanted to speak with my brother and I knew he wouldn’t listen. So I found something that would make him listen.”

“So I was a pawn,” Chloe says. 

“A pretty one,” Michael replies with a leer. 

Lucifer growls—literally growls—at his brother, and when Chloe glances up at him, she sees that his eyes are red and his face is starting to flicker toward its true form. He starts forward. 

“Lucifer, no,” she murmurs, pressing her hand against his chest to stop him. 

She knows that if he wanted to, he could easily brush her aside and go after Michael. But he pauses. “He must be punished, Detective.”

“Yeah, for once I don’t disagree with you,” she says. “But I don’t think Linda needs an angelic brawl in her living room right now.”

Michael presses his hands together as if he’s praying. “Please, brother. Forgive me. I was wrong.”

Lucifer clenches his jaw. His hands are in fists at his sides. “He’s lying.”

No shit, Chloe wants to say. But she’d rather not curse in front of God, even if he does look like an aged librarian who enjoys dusty books and a pipe. 

“Lucifer,” she murmurs. “Look at me.”

He obeys.

“Not tonight, okay?” she says. 

His face flickers again toward its true form. She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t look away from him. She keeps one hand over his heart, and the other wrapped around his forearm, and waits for him. 

Eventually, he exhales and nods. “As you wish, Detective,” he says, rolling his shoulders and then straightening.

Michael grins. “Thanks for the forgiveness, bro.”

“He didn’t say he forgives you,” Chloe snaps. “And I suggest you wipe that grin off your face before I do it for you.”

Lucifer laughs, admiration clear in his eyes. Michael’s grin fades. His eyes flash, and Chloe thinks, Go ahead. Try it and see what happens. 

“Who’s ready for dinner?” Linda’s voice calls cheerily from the kitchen. 

Lucifer turns toward her. “That depends. Is there alcohol?”

Dinner with God is...weird.

It’s so weird. 

Chloe can’t put her finger on why it’s so weird. Maybe it’s because she can’t quite reconcile the absentee father she’s heard so much about with the kind, albeit slightly awkward, man at the head of the table who seems fascinated by Amenadiel and Linda’s stories about Charlie. Maybe it’s that Michael and Lucifer are shooting each other looks from across the table, and Chloe is certain that at some point before the night is over, she’s going to have to break up a fight. Maybe it’s just that she’s one of only two humans in the house, and if someone had told her a few years ago that she would one day be eating dinner with a trio of angels and God, she’d have had them committed. 

It could also be the two glasses of wine she’s had. She holds her alcohol pretty well now, thanks to all her nights partying with Maze, and she’s not even tipsy yet. But it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world for her to stop drinking before she tilts into her I-feel-like-I’m-floating zone. 

As if on cue, Lucifer starts to refill her glass. She opens her mouth to tell him no, but decides against it. She doesn’t have to drink it. He’ll do it for her if she leaves it sitting there long enough. 

“So,” John says from the head of the table. “Chloe.”

“Yes,” she says, looking away from her glass. 

He smiles. “I hear you’re very good at your job.”

“I hardly think very good covers it,” Lucifer sniffs from his seat on Chloe’s right. “She’s the best there is.”

Chloe chews her lip around a smile. “I don’t know if I’d say the best.”

“You needn’t say it, darling. I said it for you and I don’t lie. There’s no one better.”

“Really?” Michael says. “No one?”

Lucifer glares at him from across the table. 

“I assisted on a case of hers recently,” Amenadiel interrupts, ever the peacemaker. He leans forward, his eyes fixed on his father. “Luci is right. She is very good, Father.”

“Well you were a big help,” Chloe points out. She turns toward John. “And Lucifer, too. I wouldn’t have solved half the cases I have without him. He’s great.”

Lucifer’s chest puffs out a little. He smiles at Chloe. “We do make quite a team.”

“The best team,” Chloe confirms, bumping her shoulder against his.

“Aw,” Linda says.

“Adorable,” Michael mutters into his wine glass. 

Lucifer glares at him again.

“You should tell us all about one of your cases,” Linda suggests. “Maybe a tricky one that required you to work together?”

“Ah,” Lucifer says, setting his whiskey glass on the table with a thunk. “I know just the one.”

And then he launches into a detailed summary of the Wobble case that started with a charred crotch. Chloe was present for most of the events he’s referring to, but she finds herself enraptured anyway. He’s a hell of a storyteller, and he’s got a remarkable memory. It’s absurd how many details he can remember. She makes a mental note to harass him later for refusing to help her write reports when he clearly remembers just as much, if not more, than she does. 

“And that’s how the Detective and I caught the killer and prevented another death,” Lucifer finishes, reaching for his glass. He winks at her. “Best team in the business.”

“Are you sure?” Michael asks. “Seems to me the Detective could have solved the crime just fine without you. She basically did, since you were so obsessed with your own issues.”

The smile drops off Lucifer’s face. “And how many crimes have you solved? Oh, that’s right. You prefer committing them.”

“Well that’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?” Michael replies. 

“Who’s ready for dessert?” Linda interrupts, shooting to her feet. “I’ve got pie.”

“I love pie,” Chloe says. She elbows Lucifer. “You like pie.”

“Pie is great,” Amenadiel says. “Wait until you try pie, Father.” 

Michael sits back in his chair with a sneer, but he doesn’t say anything else. Neither does Lucifer. For a moment, at least, there’s peace.

“Amenadiel, can you grab everyone’s plate?” Linda asks.

“Of course.” 

Amenadiel stands and begins collecting plates. Linda bolts for the kitchen. Chloe watches her go longingly. She should’ve offered to help get the pie so she could get away from Michael’s smirk for a few minutes. She reaches for her wine glass. Maybe she’ll drink it after all. 

“Chloe,” John says, leaning forward after Amenadiel removes his plate. “I hear you have a daughter.”

“I do,” Chloe confirms. “She’s ten years old going on twenty-five.”

John smiles. “Does she wish to follow in your footsteps?”

“You mean be a cop?”

John nods.

Chloe snorts. “No. She wants to be the first president of Mars. Or a forensic scientist. Or maybe an artist. That’s this week, though. Next week she might decide she wants to be a mime. Or a rocket scientist. Or both.”

John smiles. “Quite the ambitious child you have.”

“Yes,” Lucifer agrees before Chloe can. “The Detective does an excellent job of nurturing her curiosity and giving her the space to form her own opinions and identity. Beatrice is very fortunate. Her mother loves her unconditionally whether she chooses to be a mime or the president of Mars.”

The words are about as subtle as a bat to the face. So far John has seemed immune to sarcasm and innuendo, but Chloe can tell that he’s picked up on Lucifer’s subtext this time because his smile fades a little. She almost feels bad for him. 

Almost. 

“She also loves Lucifer,” Chloe says, trying to get them back to neutral ground. “She’s drawn him enough pictures to fill a storage unit, which is a pretty big honor in Trixie’s book.”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t want a storage unit full of kid scribbles?” Michael says. 

Chloe glares at him. She wishes she could shoot him again and wipe that smirk off his face. He sneers at her like he knows what she’s thinking. Lucifer shifts next to her, and then Michael winces and breaks eye contact. Lucifer looks smug, and Chloe realizes he just kicked his brother under the table. 

She presses her lips together around a smile and slides her hand over Lucifer’s knee beneath the table. Lucifer weaves his fingers through hers. 

John is either unaware of what’s happening or he doesn’t care. “Children are wonderful beings,” he says almost wistfully. “They love so deeply and fiercely. That kind of love can inspire miracles.”

Lucifer scoffs. “If only all miracles came from such pure intentions.”

“Okay,” Linda says brightly, appearing with a pie in each hand. “We have apple with vanilla ice cream and chocolate mousse.” She sets the chocolate pie down next to Lucifer. “Your sons are very fond of chocolate,” she tells John with a smile. “I have a feeling you will be too.”

Lucifer tugs the pie toward himself. “Don’t waste your breath, Doctor. This is far too sweet for him. He prefers things that are bitter.” 

Linda shoots a pleading look at Chloe. 

“Hey,” Chloe says, reaching over to yank the chocolate pie away from Lucifer. “I might want some of that.”

Lucifer smirks at her. “We could take it back to the penthouse and eat it off each other if you’d like.”

Chloe feels her face flush immediately. “Lucifer.”

Lucifer’s smirk deepens. “You’re still very adorable when you’re flustered, you know.”

“Okay,” Chloe says, trying to avoid looking at John. “Let’s just...let’s keep private things private, all right?” She looks at Linda. “Do you—”

Linda holds up a knife. “Yep. Feel free to stab him if you’d like, but try to keep his blood off the pie.”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Lucifer says, turning toward Linda. “I’m invulnerable around the Detective again!”

Linda lifts her eyebrows. “You are?”

“I am,” Lucifer replies happily. 

Linda glances at Chloe. “That’s...interesting.”

“Mhmm,” Chloe says, focusing on the pie. 

There’s a beat of silence in the room as she starts cutting the pie. She’s sure if she looked up, she’d see Linda and Lucifer exchanging a look. She doesn’t look up. 

“Detective,” Lucifer says softly.

She ignores him. “Who wants chocolate?” she says instead. She is not having this conversation in front of all these people.

“Would it be possible to have one of each?” John asks. 

Chloe glances up at him in surprise. His eyes are fixed on Linda, and he looks...hopeful. As if he’s genuinely asking. He’s God, and he’s asking Linda for permission to have two slices of pie. 

“Of course,” Linda says.

He beams. Chloe blinks at him for a moment, taken aback, and then she forces herself to look away. It’s rude to stare. 

Linda cuts the apple pie while Chloe busies herself with the chocolate one. Amenadiel starts explaining all the desserts he’d like his father to try, and Chloe lets her mind wander as he waxes poetic about ice cream. She can feel Lucifer next to her, solid and warm and familiar, and she knows he’s looking at her even without lifting her gaze. She can smell his cologne, and the impulse to bury her face in his shoulder and breathe him in throbs in her chest. She ignores it. 

When she slides a plate of chocolate pie in front of him, he catches her wrist before she can pull her hand away. She glances up at him. 

“Thank you,” he says. And then he gives her that little half smile he’s given her since their first case together, and she feels like melting into a puddle on the floor.

“Sure,” she says instead, and turns back to the pie. 

Eventually, Amenadiel runs out of desserts to discuss. An awkward silence ensues. Chloe glances at Linda. Linda lifts her shoulder as if to say Don’t look at me, I don’t know what to say. Chloe doesn’t either, so she looks back down at her pie. 

“I’d like to discuss something over dessert, if that’s all right,” John says into the silence.

“Is it the reason behind this bloody charade?” Lucifer asks, stabbing his fork into his pie with far more force than necessary. “After hours of horrible small talk you’re finally going to spill the beans on your big announcement?”

“Actually, I think we need to discuss a few things before I make my announcement,” John says. “Clear the air.”

Chloe chokes on her pie.

“What?” Amenadiel says.

“Yes, what? ” Lucifer echoes. 

“I think it best if we air our grievances before we discuss what’s brought me here,” John rephrases. 

Everyone at the table gapes at him. He smiles benignly at them, eating his pie as if he just said I think it’s going to rain this week and not I think we should all say what we hate about each other.  

Chloe glances at Lucifer. He’s pale and suddenly silent. She glances at Linda next, hoping that her chosen career might prompt her to point out what a colossally bad idea this is, but Linda doesn’t say a word. 

“Father,” Michael says in a voice dripping in flattery. “Don’t you think—”

Chloe takes advantage of the distraction and leans toward Linda, who is sitting on her left. “This seems like a bad idea,” she whispers.

“You think?” Linda whispers back.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“What am I supposed to do, tell God he’s doing it wrong?”

Chloe sighs and leans away.

“I know what I’m doing,” John says to Michael. It’s a clear dismissal, and Michael glowers as a result.

“Amenadiel,” John says, glancing down the table. “You have always been the most measured of my sons.”

“That’s an obnoxious way of saying you’re boring,” Lucifer says. 

Amenadiel purses his lips. “Yes, thank you, Luci.”

“Would you like to begin?” John says, ignoring Lucifer. “I believe you will set a positive example.”

Chloe watches as Amenadiel’s chest puffs out a little. It’s cute, for a second, until it’s not. Chloe hates the way he seems to hang on every affirmation he gets—or doesn’t get—from his father. Amenadiel is kind and gentle and loyal and good. He shouldn’t be so starved for approval from his father that being called a positive example is the equivalent of the highest compliment. Also, why the hell isn’t God setting the example? Why do his sons have to do what he should be doing?

“All right,” Amenadiel says. He straightens in his chair. “Lucifer, I’ll start with you.”

“Lucky me,” Lucifer quips. He’s stabbing his pie again. It looks like the dessert equivalent of a murder scene.

A soft smile spreads over Amenadiel’s lips. “We haven’t always seen eye to eye.”

Lucifer snorts.

“But lately, we seem to have found some common ground,” Amenadiel continues. “And I say this now with no reservations: You’re a good man, Luci. What you did for Charlie and the rest of us a few months ago was noble and self-sacrificing, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to express my gratitude.”

Chloe glances at Lucifer. He looks stunned. 

“I’ve enjoyed our recent closeness,” Amenadiel says, still smiling. “And I look forward to many more years of it. It’s an honor to walk this earth with you, brother.”

Lucifer looks genuinely touched, and Chloe’s heart warms in her chest.

“That’s not a grievance,” Michael points out petulantly.

“Shut up,” Chloe snaps at him before she can stop herself. “It’s not your turn.”

Michael casts a glance at his father, but John doesn’t come to his defense. Chloe turns her gaze back to Lucifer. 

Lucifer clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “Thank you,” he says quietly. 

Amenadiel nods. “You’re welcome.” He glances at Michael. “As for you, I think you could learn a thing or two from our brother.”

Chloe grins.

“From him? ” Michael sputters.

“Well, this might just be my favorite family dinner ever,” Lucifer says, reaching for his whiskey glass.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Michael says. “He’s the Lord of Hell. If anyone should understand how pathetic the human race is, it’s him. And yet he’s living like one of them. He has relationships with them.”

He says relationships like it’s a curse word, and it’s clear that he means Chloe. He looks right at her when he says it. Chloe bristles and straightens in her chair. It’s Lucifer’s turn to smooth his hand over her knee beneath the table. 

“You could learn a thing or two from humans, as well,” Amenadiel says mildly. “That’s your problem, brother. You are incapable of learning from your mistakes, at least so far. Lucifer has proven he isn’t. He’s grown. You haven’t.”

Lucifer tilts his head. “I take offense to the implication that I’ve made mistakes, but I’ll overlook it considering you’re clearly hashtag Team Lucifer.” He leans back and drapes his arm around the back of Chloe’s chair with a cocky grin. “Please, continue with the grievances.”

Chloe barely swallows an amused snort. 

“I have nothing more to say,” Amenadiel says. “Just that I wish you would think of others more than yourself, Michael. We may be celestial, but that does not give us the right to do whatever we please and leave devastation in our wake.”

Michael looks incensed. 

Linda reaches out and puts her hand on Amenadiel’s arm. “Well said,” she says softly.

Amenadiel covers her hand with his and smiles. “Thank you.”

Chloe wonders briefly if they’ve ever considered getting back together. She makes a mental note to ask Linda about it at their next girls night. 

“I’d like to go next,” Michael snarls, turning toward his father. “I have plenty to say.”

Chloe expects Lucifer’s father to recognize that Michael is clearly on the edge of an outburst, and to at least attempt to calm his son. But he doesn’t.

“Of course,” John says, gesturing for Michael to continue. 

“I have nothing to say to you,” Michael says, turning toward Amenadiel. “Your attachment to humans is disgusting and beneath you, but I know a lost cause when I see one.”

Amenadiel clenches his jaw but doesn’t argue. 

“But you,” Michael says, turning his gaze to Lucifer. “Oh, I have plenty to say to you.”

“Of course you do,” Lucifer says with a grin. “You’ve got millennia of inadequacy to get off your chest.”

“At least it’s not guilt,” Michael snaps.

The grin drops off Lucifer’s face. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, Maze told me all about your hell loop,” Michael replies. “Poor Uriel, stabbed over and over by his own brother.”

Chloe frowns. Lucifer has a hell loop? How could he have a hell loop when he’s in charge of running everyone else’s hell loops? And what brother? Lucifer stabbed his brother?

She glances at Lucifer. His face has gone ashen. “I did what I had to do,” he says through a clenched jaw.

“That’s what you tell yourself, isn’t it?” Michael sneers. “But it’s a lie. You had a choice. And you made the wrong one, Samael.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Amenadiel can rave about your nobility all he wants, but you and I both know there’s nothing noble about you. You murdered your brother for a human.” He gestures at Chloe. “For her.”

The words hang in the air. Chloe feels everyone in the room turn their gaze toward her. Her ears are ringing. She swallows, her mouth suddenly dry, and turns toward Lucifer. He glances at her, an unmistakably guilty look on his face.

“What’s he talking about?” she asks quietly.

“Oh did his I-would-never-lie-to-you schtick not cover this?” Michael asks gleefully. “That’s the funny thing about the truth, Detective. A lie by omission is still a lie. And my brother lies to you constantly.”

Chloe ignores him. “Lucifer?” she murmurs.

Lucifer turns toward her. He looks hollowed out and raw, and when he speaks his voice is soft. “He was going to kill you.”

“Who?”

“Uriel. My brother. It was...your car accident. Kimo Vanzandt. All of it was...I tried to tell you. I told you my father was sending me a message.”

Chloe tries to remember. But so much has happened since then, and there are so many other celestial issues she’s had to come to terms with since she found out the truth, that his passing reference to his father being responsible for her car accident a few years ago hasn’t even crossed her mind.

“I don’t understand,” she says.

Lucifer looks pained. “It’s complicated.”

The words feel like a slap to the face. She winces, and he immediately realizes his mistake and reaches for her. 

“No, Detective, I’m not—”

“Let me uncomplicate it for you, Detective,” Michael interrupts. “He made a deal with Dad. Dad protects you from crazy Malcolm, and in return, Lucifer promises to do as he’s told. Except when Dad tried to collect and asked Lucifer to return Mom to Hell, your boyfriend refused.” 

He looks at Lucifer. “What is it that these humans you love so much always say? You can’t have your cake and eat it too. Dad kept his word. He always does. And you, Mr. My-word-is-my-bond, didn’t. Not only that, you murdered our brother when he tried to hold you accountable.”

“That’s not what happened,” Lucifer snarls.

“Where’s the lie?” Michael demands, holding out his arms. “Amenadiel thinks we shouldn’t leave devastation in our wake, but that’s all you do, Samael. In the last few years you’ve wreaked havoc in the Silver City and in Hell and everywhere in between, and for what? For her? ”

“You’re damn right I did it for her!” Lucifer shouts, slamming his fists on the table and shooting to his feet. “And I’d do it again, no matter the bloody cost! I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Michael gets to his feet too. “Oh I understand better than you think. She told you that she thought I was you, didn’t she? What do you think that means?”

“Now wait a minute—” Chloe starts, but Lucifer talks right over her. 

“It means you tried to take what isn’t yours just like you always do, you unconscionable prick. My glory, my place in the host, now my girlfriend. You’re pathetic.”

Michael smiles wolfishly. “I didn’t take anything from her that wasn’t freely given. She’s a hell of a kisser, by the way.” He glances down at Chloe. “You tell him about how well acquainted we got when you were rooting around in my pocket looking for vending machine money?”

Chloe opens her mouth to tell him he can go to hell, but once again she doesn’t get the chance. 

“Don’t speak to her,” Lucifer snaps, his voice quivering with rage. His eyes are molten red. “Don’t even look at her.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Michael challenges.

“All right,” Amenadiel interrupts, getting to his feet. “Let’s all take a breath.”

“Stay out of this, Amenadiel,” Lucifer snaps. 

“Yes, brother,” Michael says, his eyes alight with fury. “Keep your measured attitude for another time.”

Chloe looks at Lucifer’s father. Her cop instincts are telling her to step in and de-escalate the situation, but this isn’t a normal domestic dispute. The only person who can break this up is the same person who started it.

“Aren’t you going to intervene?” she asks him.

He swallows a mouthful of pie. “No. This is good for them.” And then he smiles at her. 

“Are you kidding me?” Chloe demands before she can think better of it. “How is this good for them? They’re going to kill each other.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t kill anyone, Chloe,” Michael says. “That’s my brother’s thing.”

“Don’t. Speak. Her. Name,” Lucifer snarls. “It isn’t your name to say.”

“It isn’t yours either. Not when you’re so afraid to hear your own name, Samael.”

“Stop calling me that!” Lucifer roars, and before Chloe can react he’s got a pie-covered knife in his hand and he’s flinging it at Michael. It turns end over end, and then stops a centimeter from Michael’s chest when he catches it by the blade between his thumb and index finger.

For a moment, the room is dead silent. 

Michael glances down at the knife, and then up at Lucifer. “Guess you haven’t changed after all, have you? Once a kin killer, always a kin killer.” 

“Enough,” Amenadiel commands, snatching the knife from Michael’s grip. “You provoked him intentionally.” 

“So that means he isn’t responsible for his actions?” 

“We all know it wouldn’t have killed you,” Amenadiel replies. “You spend more time worried about his actions than your own. You’ve aired your grievances, brother. Sit down.”

“Oh I’m just getting started,” Michael replies. “And really, Amenadiel, you should be on my side here. It should concern you that he’s willing to go to such lengths for her. I mean, what happens when she dies? We all know she’s too good to go home with him. And he’s made it clear he can’t bear to be away from her permanently. So what’s he going to do? Storm the gates of the Silver City and demand we let him in to join her?” 

“So that’s your plan, is it?” Lucifer interjects before Amenadiel can respond. “You incited my rebellion in the garden and now you’d like to incite another?”

“Wait, what?” Chloe says. Is that what Lucifer meant when he said his brother had been manipulating him since the dawn of time? 

No one pays her any attention.

“You hear that?” Michael says to Amenadiel, gesturing at Lucifer. “He all but admitted his plan. He’ll destroy the natural order of things for her, and if you don’t stand against him now, you’ll be just as much to blame as he is.”

Amenadiel casts a concerned look at Lucifer, but Lucifer is looking at their father. “Well, I hope you’re proud of yourself, Dad,” he snaps. “Like father, like son. Manipulation runs in the celestial genes, apparently.”

John furrows his eyebrows. “Manipulation? When did I manipulate you?”

“When have you not? ”

“I told you, Father,” Michael says. “I told you that he hasn’t changed. He’s just as selfish and ungrateful as ever.”

“What have I to be grateful for?” Lucifer shoots back. “The job I never wanted? Millennia surrounded by ash and torment? The eternal banishment from my family?”

Michael smirks and tips his head toward Chloe. “You could at least be grateful for your gift. She’s a newer and better version of Eve, created specifically for you, and you spit in his face every day you refuse to acknowledge his generosity.”

“Excuse me?” Chloe says. But no one looks at her except Linda.

“You misunderstand, Michael,” Amenadiel says earnestly. “She’s not the gift. What she can do is the gift. It’s more like a blessing.”

“That’s the same thing,” Michael scoffs. “It all has the same source.”

“No, no, you’re wrong,” Amenadiel says.

Chloe reaches out and grabs Lucifer’s sleeve. She’s tired of being talked about without getting a chance to speak for herself. 

“Lucifer,” she calls.

He turns to look at her, but then John gets to his feet and reaches for Lucifer’s shoulder. “My son, she wasn’t—”

“I am not your son,” Lucifer snaps, recoiling from John’s grasp. “Do not touch me.”

“You can’t run from who you are, Samael,” Michael says, smirking again. “And neither can your girlfriend no matter how hard she tries. You two are together because you were designed to be. It’s not real. If you hate Father so much, then let go of her.”

“You can’t manipulate me into sacrificing her,” Lucifer snarls. “She is mine. Do you hear me? She belongs to me, not you, and I swear to Dad if you so much as look at her the wrong way, I will end you.”

“What did I tell you?” Michael says to Amenadiel. “He’s killed for her before and he’ll do it again. He’d burn heaven itself for her.”

“Oh, not just heaven, brother,” Lucifer snarls.

Maybe it’s the mental image of Lucifer, in all his deviled glory, burning heaven and earth in her name. Maybe it’s Michael’s smirk, or Amenadiel’s concern, or John’s confusion. Maybe it’s just the fact that they’re all standing while she sits, shouting at each other over her head as if she’s a thing without any thoughts or feelings or opinions of her own. 

Whatever it is, something inside Chloe finally snaps. 

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here! ” she shouts, slamming her fist down on the table so hard that the silverware rattles. 

The room goes silent. Everyone turns to look at her, their eyes wide in surprise. Chloe glares back at them, unrepentant. 

“What the hell is wrong with you people?” she demands, getting to her feet. “You’re older than the freaking world and yet here you are, acting like a bunch of kids. My daughter is more mature than you and she still has me check under her bed for monsters!”

Lucifer opens his mouth.

“Don’t,” Chloe snaps, holding up her hand. “It’s my turn to talk.”

Lucifer shuts his mouth. 

“I am not a gift,” she says, glaring across the table at Michael. She looks at Amenadiel, and then at Lucifer and his father. “I’m not a blessing either. I don’t belong to anyone. And I sure as hell am not your way back into your son’s good graces. I am a fucking person. I’m my own person. I don’t exist to be the topic of your dinner conversation and I deserve a hell of a lot more than being treated like a trophy you all want to go to war over.”

The four celestial beings standing around her—even Michael, wonder of all wonders—look at least slightly chastised by her speech. It doesn’t ease her frustration though. If anything, it makes her madder. All that bluster and arrogance and a silly little human can shut them all up?

“You’re all ridiculous,” she says. “You can’t even get through dinner without trying to rip each other’s throats out. And you don’t care who you drag into your mess, either.” She motions to herself. “Exhibit fucking A.”

Her phone rings before she can say anything else. She closes her eyes, annoyed by the interruption, and then she yanks it out of her back pocket and puts it to her ear. 

“Decker,” she snaps.

On the other end of the line, a dispatcher tells her there’s been a murder and that her lieutenant has requested it be assigned to her because it’s high profile.

“Fine,” she says, pressing her fingers to her forehead. “Where?”

The dispatcher replies, and offers to text her the address.

“Yeah. I’m on the way.”

She hangs up. Silence hovers in the air. Everyone is staring at her. She turns toward Linda.

“Linda, thank you so much for dinner. It was great. I’m sorry to eat and run, but there’s been a homicide and I have a job to do.”

“Of course,” Linda says with a kind smile. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She doesn’t say it, but Chloe hears the words To check and make sure you’re okay loud and clear. 

“Thanks,” she says. And then she heads for the door without speaking to anyone else, stopping long enough only to grab her purse.  

She’s halfway out the front door when she hears Michael say, “Lucifer, where are you going? You can’t just leave.”

“Watch me,” Lucifer shoots back. 

Chloe doesn’t stop to wait for him. She’s a few steps off the front porch when he catches up with her. 

“Detective,” he calls. “Detective, wait.” 

His fingers curl around her bicep. He tugs with just enough pressure to bring her to a stop. She turns to face him with her jaw clenched. Irritation is still whipping through her veins.

He doesn’t seem to notice. “Well played with the phone call,” he says admiringly. “Although, I wouldn’t have minded in the least if you’d had them call earlier. I would’ve sacrificed dessert.” He steps closer to her with a sly smile, and his eyes dip toward her chest. “We could have had our own dessert. Still can, I suppose.”

“I didn’t tell Dispatch to call me, Lucifer,” Chloe says through gritted teeth. 

He lifts his gaze to hers. “Really? Well, lucky us then. What poor sap do we have to thank for our good fortune? Where are we headed?”

“We’re not headed anywhere. I’m going to a crime scene. You’re staying here.”

He blinks at her. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m doing you a favor, really,” she says, folding her arms over her chest. “Now you guys can go back to talking about me, which seems to be your favorite thing to do.”

Lucifer blinks again, obviously confused. “I don’t understand. Are you angry with me?”

“No, of course not,” she says, throwing up her hands. “What could I possibly be angry about? I love when men fight over me like I’m a shiny toy. Especially when I’m in the room and they pretend like I’m not.”

Lucifer’s brow is furrowed like he’s trying to solve a very complicated math equation and it isn’t going well. “I see,” he says slowly. “I can...well, I can understand how that’d be rather vexing for someone like you.”

“Vexing?” Chloe repeats. And then she buries her face in her hands and mutters a string of curses. She feels Lucifer’s hand slide down her arm. 

“Detective, I didn’t intend—”

“It doesn’t matter what you intended, Lucifer,” she interrupts, dropping her hands and shrugging away from him. “You talked about me like I was your possession. Like you own me.”

“But I—”

“That’s not how this works,” she cuts him off again. “You know that, right? You know you don’t own me, don’t you?”

“Well of course I do, Detective.”

“Right,” Chloe says, remembering his words yesterday in the evidence room. “Of course you do.”

Lucifer searches her eyes, his brow still furrowed. “I was simply trying to defend you. To defend us. I only wanted...” He trails off and shakes his head. “I thought I made it clear that you have complete free will in all this.”

“Do I though?” she challenges. “Because apparently I’m the reason the world is going to end and heaven is going to burn and it really doesn’t seem like I have much of a say in that, Lucifer.”

For a moment, neither of them say anything. They just stare at each other. The three feet or so of space between them feels like miles. 

Eventually, Lucifer clenches his jaw like he’s made a decision and he’s steeling himself to act on it. He closes the distance between them. 

“Detective,” he murmurs, lifting his hands to her face. His touch makes her heart race, and this time it isn’t irritation. He holds her gaze with an earnestness that takes her breath away. “You have my word that—”

“Lucifer?” Amenadiel calls. 

The moment shatters like glass. Chloe lowers her head to stare at the sidewalk, and Lucifer exhales heavily and drops his hands from her face.

“Oh,” Amenadiel says. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“And yet you did,” Lucifer says with another sigh. “What is it?”

“Father has requested your presence. He’s ready to share his announcement.”

Chloe looks up. Lucifer’s jaw is clenched, and he’s glaring at Linda’s house as if he’d like nothing more than to smite it from existence. Chloe wonders if he could. 

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath like he’s searching for patience, and then he looks at her. “What would you have me do, Detective?”

She stares at him in surprise. Is he...is he saying it’s up to her if he goes back in there? “You don’t have a choice,” she murmurs, confusion bleeding into her voice. “That’s what you said.”

“And you?”

It feels like a trick question. She said she’d go where he goes. But she can’t call Dispatch back and say Just kidding, tell the lieutenant I can’t do my job tonight because God has a big announcement and my boyfriend wants me there. 

“It’s a high profile case, Lucifer,” she tells him. “The lieutenant specifically requested me.”

For the briefest of instances, she can see hurt flicker in Lucifer’s gaze. But it’s gone so fast she isn’t sure she really saw it, and his expression is suddenly impassive. 

“Right,” he says, straightening to his full height. “Hazards of being the best, I suppose. Good luck, Detective.”

He turns on his heel and marches back up the walk. Chloe watches him go. She feels like she should call him back so they don’t part on such an uncertain note, but she has no idea what to say. 

Lucifer pauses on the step leading up to the porch. He lingers there for a moment, and then looks over his shoulder at her. 

“Be careful,” he says quietly. 

Chloe’s throat is suddenly tight. All she can do is nod. 

Lucifer flicks his gaze over her one last time, and then he’s gone.