Chapter Text
Lucifer doesn’t know how he ended up here. ‘Here’ being laying on Chloe’s couch with Beatrice asleep on his chest, snoring like her mother does. But as odd as it might be, he finds it pleasant to watch the girl sleep, his mind wandering to the past few days in an attempt to figure out how this happened.
-2 days earlier-
Her eyes stare off into the distance as she sits at her desk, mind whirring at a thousand miles an hour in a hopeless attempt to find a way to solve her current dilemma. Chloe was told that morning by the interim lieutenant that she has to attend a seminar all day Saturday, two days from now, but it’s her weekend with Trixie, and she can’t seem to find anyone willing to watch her. Dan has had her for almost 3 weeks while he’s been on leave following the Malcolm incident and is straight up refusing to keep her any longer. Her mother is out of town, Ella has her own forensics seminar to attend, and all the neighbors she usually calls in at this point are either out of town, going out of town, or won’t do it. Chloe is stuck. There is no one left to ask. Even Trixie’s friends are busy or have some other excuse. Sighing Chloe’s head thumps against the desk as she huffs in frustration, something that is only made worse when she hears, “Hello, Detective!”
Groaning into the wood of the desk and remaining where she is doesn’t stop her from hearing the click of Lucifer's red-soled shoes draw closer by a step or two before he speaks again, “I-is everything alright, Detective?” His voice is softer now, gentle in a way she only ever hears when he talks to her.
Lifting her head, Chloe sees his puppy-dog brown eyes are filled to the brim with worry and confusion. “I can’t find anyone to babysit Trixie on Saturday. I have to go to an all-day seminar and it seems everyone else I know who could watch her is busy, too.” The Detective’s eyes are red-rimmed and there’s a tremor in her voice. She’s doing all she can to remain professional, but she’s so frustrated that she could cry, or scream, or punch someone - maybe all three at once.
“I could watch her,” Lucifer offers, and Chloe just stares at him. Then bursts out laughing.
“And who would babysit you?” she jokes, but it falls flat when she sees the hurt in Lucifer’s dark eyes, so she changes tactics. “It’s not that I think you’re incapable or anything. But I know how you feel about kids.”
Lucifer tilts his head to the side like a black lab puppy, a rather adorable tick of his that Chloe just melts at, “What do you mean?”
“You told me before you despise children,” Chloe is quick to remind him.
“Despise is a harsh word, Detective. I suppose I was exaggerating.” He pauses, thinking for a moment before he continues, “I’ve just never spent much time with children. And those I have met I don’t understand. Their desires never make much sense and they’re always sticky and grubby and grabby. But I’ve found your offspring is exceptionally bright and tends to be less sticky than other urchins her age.”
Chloe’s hesitant, “I just don’t know Lucifer.”
He shrugs in response, a warm, but still forced smile on his face as he looks at her, “Well, if you need me, I’m here, and I’d be willing to help. Just let me know.” Chloe nods and puts this venture behind her as she and Lucifer turn their attention to a case.
Late the next day, Lucifer’s phone rings, Chloe’s decision having been made, and Saturday morning he finds himself alone with a hungry, whiny urchin.
- Earlier that Day -
When Lucifer turns around to Trixie after seeing her mother off, he expects the girl to be wearing the same smile she had on before her mother left. But she’s not even behind him anymore. Instead, the girl has climbed onto the couch and has her knees pulled up to her chest, her face buried in them. Frowning, Lucifer approaches the little one, sitting on the couch beside in as gentle a way as possible.
“Ur-Beatrice? A-are you alright?” he asks, one hand lifting to run up and down her back. He feels her breath against his hand before her face lifts and her small, dark eyes meet his own.
“I wanted to make pancakes or French toast with mommy like we do every weekend. She had to work on my last weekend with her. And during the week, we barely saw each other,” she huffs, sadness and longing evident in her tone.
“Ah. You miss your mum. I know she’d rather be here with you, urchin. She always regrets when she has to cut short her time with you. I know I’m no replacement for your mother or father, but I do know how to make crepes, if you’d like to learn.” Trixie lights up at his offer, starting to babble about wanting to visit France and all the times she’s eaten crepes as he guides her to the kitchen. After ensuring both of them have clean hands, Lucifer spends the next hour and a half teaching Trixie everything there is to know about cooking crepes, including how to make 4 different fillings, 2 savory and 2 sweet. It makes quite the mess in the end, but the smile on her face that makes his chest feel warm and soft is worth it.
They eat their delicious creations, then Lucifer, not wanting to spend time cleaning, decides to call in the professionals who clean his penthouse, at triple their usual rate plus tip. His next problem is where to go with the urchin while the cleaning is taking place. Figuring the best course of action with an adult is to ask, he uses the same tactic here, explaining the situation then asking where she would like to go.
She frowns in thought, her eyebrows knitting together as her forehead crinkles, then she answers in a tentative voice, “Well, I always wanted to go to the planetarium, but my Dad said it was silly.” Her eyes drift away from him, finding the floor as she shifts from foot to foot and plays with the hem of the shirt she’s wearing.
“Not to worry child, I happen to be the largest donor at Griffith Observatory, and they so happen to owe me a favor I’ve been meaning to cash in, so it won’t cost a thing for me to take you. Unless, this was an activity reserved for you and your father, of course.” Her smile is blinding as her face lights up, and a horrific pleased squeal leaves her mouth. She wraps herself around him like an octopus as a thousand happy ‘thank you’s pour out of her mouth. Lucifer smiles at her enthusiasm for the stars he made, pats her head, and instructs her to dress and clean up to leave the house.
A half hour later, they’re halfway to the planetarium, Trixie giggling as the wind from the Corvette blows her dark hair around. The drive to the Griffith Observatory from the Detective’s apartment takes over an hour, but the time is spent in easy conversation. The girl has an endless array of questions about stars, planets, and space in general and though the conversation shifts to other subjects after a while, he can’t help but note how often she mentions her father calling her interests silly, or the way she keeps tugging on the sleeves of the sweatshirt she chose to wore.
He’s grateful when they arrive at the observatory, as the child had started complaining about needing the restroom and the last thing he wants is his precious Corvette wrecked by such a mess. While she’s in the restroom, Lucifer takes the time to confer with the associates and make sure everything is properly set up. When the girl is finished, he brings her to the planetarium and gets settled with her in a pair of seats towards the middle. As they’re getting comfortable, she asks, “What show are we seeing? And how many people do you think will be coming?”
His mischievous grin catches her eye, “No one, child. We have the whole place to ourselves.”
They spend the next 3 hours in the planetarium, a ‘Tour Guide of the Stars’ showing them as much as possible in that amount of time. All the while, Lucifer whispers hushed corrections to Beatrice about his precious stars that often make her giggle, her wonder and curiosity never ceasing, feeding his own wonderlust. As they leave, she mentions that she’s hungry, so he takes the opportunity to treat her.
“What’s your favorite food, Beatrice?” he asks.
She thinks on it for a moment, then looks at him in the driver’s seat, “Chocolate cake. But if you’re talking about real food, like Mommy likes me to eat, mac and cheese is my favorite.”
“Well then, allow me to treat you to some of the best in the city.” He takes her to a little restaurant and ice cream parlor, a feature he knew she would love, called Brie’s. It’s a place he helped start up a few years ago that has a cult following in LA. It serves a variety of dairy filled dishes including the best mac and cheese Lucifer, and now Trixie, has ever eaten. They, of course, save room for ice cream. Lucifer gets a Going to the Bourbon Ball Sundae , and leaves Trixie to carry her own Chocolate Dreams Come True Sundae back to the table after paying. He reminds her to walk, as the floors are wet from being mopped, and to be careful with the desert, before retreating to their table.
Not two minutes later, the girl comes around the corner, racing toward him, a mound of chocolate colored chaos in her hands. But there’s a rug on the linoleum floor and she doesn’t see. The next thing he sees is the chocolate desert where it ends up all over the floor, the table, and himself.
“Beatrice!” he snaps her name as his anger takes over, not really thinking about much more than his ruined Burburry. Then he sees her go rigid, terror flashing across her face before it’s schooled into an expression of nonchalance he recognizes far too well. He leaves the table, moving toward her so he can crouch to her level and ask if she’s alright, but he only makes it halfway there before the girl flinches away from him. Her dark eyes stare at the floor, and her shoulders hunch in an attempt to make her look smaller. It makes Lucifer’s heart clench in his chest.
Stopping where he is, a few feet from her, Lucifer crouches, speaking to her again, this time in a softer, gentler tone. “Beatrice, I apologize for snapping. I know it was an accident. You’re not in trouble.”
Her dark eyes shine with unshed tears, but she doesn’t meet his gaze, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She mumbles it over and over again, all while trying to hide her shaking hands by making fists. The anxiety dripping off her is palpable, and Lucifer doesn’t know what to do or say to help. Deciding that giving her space might for the best and since he needs to get cleaned up, he asks her to go sit at the table while he runs to the men’s room. She nods and remains quiet as she moves to the table, seating herself and folding her hands in her lap. The serious expression on her face sends a shutter sown his spine at it’s resemblance to a criminal awaiting sentencing.
He leaves her, his own thoughts a jumble as he tries to figure out how to make this situation better. In the men’s room, he finds his jacket is ruined, so he removes it and his vest, leaving him in a white button up. His slacks are fine, somehow surviving the accident, but his shoes will need cleaning at home. He does have to wash some ice cream off his face and out of his hair. Once he looks decent, he decides it’s time to go speak to the child again.
When he arrives back at the table, it’s clear to him the child has been crying, but she seems determined not to show it. He sits beside her but makes no move to touch her, just looks at her with a soft smile on his face. He has no time to say anything though, as the girl cuts him off.
“P-please don’t punish me,” she whimpers out, her voice almost too quiet to hear. She’s still trembling, just hiding it well, and when Lucifer studies the girl closer, he can see the shadow of a bruise on her cheek, almost healed. And for the first time, he thinks the way she keeps tugging on the sleeves of her sweatshirt might be a sign of something worse. His gut twists at the thought that she’s been with her father for the last month and that he might’ve hurt her.
He looks at her, voice quiet and soft, the same tone he once used with younger siblings coming out as he tries to reassure her, “Child, no one is going to punish you. No one is going to hurt you. You do understand that right?”
Beatrice’s eyes find his, though she looks apprehensive to say the least, her small voice rings out again, “Sometimes, when my dad has lots of grown-up drinks, he gets mad, really mad, and punishes me.”
Lucifer feels a surge of protectiveness for the girl at the same time he gets the urge to beat the douche black and blue. “Beatrice, that is not how he should treat you. It’s wrong.”
The girl looks away, eyes wet, “I know.”
“You should tell your mother.” Trixie turns to face him in a flash, dark eyes wide with panic.
“No. You can’t tell Mommy, or I’ll never see my dad again. Promise me, Lucifer.” She pleads and though he should tell her no, he can’t.
“I can’t lie to your mother, but I won’t say anything about it unless she asks directly. Now, I want something in return. If your father does this again, I want you to call me or make your way to Lux. You can even pray to me if you pray to the angel Samael.”
The girl blinks, “Deal.”
They came home after that, watched a movie about an alien landing in Hawaii and becoming attached to a human child, then another about a chosen woman leaving home to find a god and convince him to save her people. She fell asleep on his chest somewhere during the second film, which had ended over an hour ago. Maybe he should’ve carried the girl to bed, but he thought that might wake her and really, he doesn’t mind. Beatrice is a strong, amazing child, and Lucifer feels lucky to even know her and her mother. He’s just about to close his own eyes to rest when a whimper escapes the girl’s mouth followed by a mumbled, “Daddy, stop.”
Lucifer is all too familiar with nightmares, so resting a hand on her shoulder, he shakes Trixie awake, “Beatrice.”
She startles, eyes popping open as she gasps for air, only to settle into a calmer state when she sees it’s him.
“I’m sorry to wake you, child, but it sounded like you were having a nightmare.”
“I was. I have them a lot.” Trixie doesn’t say anything more, but Lucifer knows what it’s like to have nightmares and knows she needs to talk about them. It helps him, even if he’d never tell Dr. Martin.
“You can tell me about it. I have nightmares quite often too, Beatrice.”
Trixie huffs and moves her head to look him in the eye, “Fine. But you have to tell me about one of yours. Deal?”
He huffs but takes the deal. “Deal.”
“I was dreaming about my daddy, he got mad, and he wouldn’t stop yelling. I tried to get away, but I couldn’t.” She trembles a bit and buries her face in his chest when she’s done, and he returns his end of the deal.
“The last nightmare I had, I dreamt about your mother. She was trapped in Hell, and I couldn’t find her. I could hear her screaming, but I couldn’t seem to get any closer to her or find the right direction to go in. It was quite awful.” Two small arms wrap as far around him as they can as Lucifer freezes in place, not wanting to break the moment.
A second later, the girl slides off him, mumbling that she wants to go lay in her bed. She’s halfway to the hall when she turns back to him, asking if he could sing a song or read a book to her to help her get back to sleep since it’ll be a lot harder after a nightmare. He agrees and ends up reading half of the Magician’s Nephew to her before she falls asleep again, not that he really minds.
Perhaps Chloe will let him watch the child again sometime.