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Lucifer has an arm wrapped around her waist while she rests her head on his chest. It’s warm and comfortable. She sighs and snuggles in closer, happy to steal more of his warmth. He pulls the blanket up further and she’s so very close to being asleep.
“I have a question.”
He would. Bastard. She murmurs something, she’s not really sure what she’s saying, and Lucifer simply hums in response. He waits for her to wake up a little, damn him, and wiggles the hand around her waist to ensure she starts to be more conscious.
It would have worked if he hadn’t used his claws to lightly scrape up her side. That does things to her body that she’s not prepared to address, so she swats at his chest and sits up. “Yes? Your Majesty and Ruiner of a Good Sleeping Position?”
He snorts. “We can get right back in that position after my question.”
“Not if you don’t ask the question.” She raises an eyebrow and he rolls his eyes. She claps her hands. “Come on, chop chop. Get to it. I have places to lie down on.”
“It’s my chest--” He starts but stops. As if he wasn’t comfortable as well. She would call him out in a second if he says otherwise. “Fine. Why don’t you just get Harold a prosthetic?”
She stares at him. “You stopped me from going to sleep to ask why I don’t get Harold a prosthetic?”
“Yes?” He blinks at her, looking adorable with his wide eyes and fluffy hair, and she can’t be mad when he has a face like that. “I think it’s a good question.”
“Everyone we tried was either painful or not good enough.” Rosie tilts her head and thinks of all the different varieties they’ve tried. “And he’s gotten quite used to having one arm. Makes him a less effective doctor some days, but he’s adapted quite well. Can we sleep now?”
“Why don’t you make one?”
Rosie stares at him. She blinks. She tilts her head the other way and tries to understand where Lucifer is coming from. He’s still looking at her, relaxed against pillows with his hair a mess and his smile soft. He’s-- Ugh. He’s so good-looking, it makes Rosie angry. How dare he look so good in her bed?
“Sunshine.” Rosie pauses. How would she make a prosthetic? Where did he get that idea? Has she ever done anything similar? Not really. She can’t recall. “What are you talking about?”
“A prosthetic. Maybe not a wooden one like what you go for, but I can make a porcelain one and you can do the rest.” Lucifer taps his chin. “Maybe not porcelain. What's a good sturdy and lightweight material?”
“Titanium.” She has a pair of titanium sewing shears. “I’m still confused, Sunshine.”
“Titanium! I can work with that.” Lucifer is getting out of bed. Her best pillow is getting out of bed. Why is her pillow getting out of bed?
“What-- Stop!” She follows him out the door and down to the work room he’s set up across from her utility room. “Sunshine, it’s bedtime!”
She wants her pillow, damn it.
“Let me just write this down.” He summons a pencil from out of nowhere and grabs the clipboard he keeps by his desk. She stays in the doorway and watches him with her arms crossed. “You know I forget things.”
“Yes, but I don’t even know what you’re writing.” She knows she’s pouting. She doesn’t care. She wants to sleep. “Sunshine, I’m tired .”
He spins to face her and is radiant. She sucks in a breath as his smile sinks into her skin as pure warmth. The world is sunshine and hibiscus tea around them, drifting through the air and making her feel so much affection it almost drowns her. She swallows. His voice is soft. “I’ll tell you about it in the morning! Promise.”
“Okay, I trust you.” She whispers as he strides towards her, puts his hands on her hips, and grins at her with his entire being. He pushes her out of the doorway, releases her hips to grab a hand, and slowly pulls her to the bedroom. “Are we going to bed now?”
“We’re going to bed now.” He laughs and she’s taken to warm mornings with pancakes and bacon. She’s taken to the drifting sounds of jazz that filter through the air as he spins her on slippers that she’ll say he stole. She sighs and can feel the warmth settle into her bones and her body feels heavy. “I’ll even be your pillow. Don’t think I’m not aware of my job in your bed.”
The phrasing there is off, but Rosie is too tired to fix it for him. “Correct. You are my pillow and you left. Pillows aren’t supposed to move.”
“My apologies. I’ll remember my position as King Pillow.” He shoves her into the bed and she can’t help but giggle. It’s nice to have someone throw her around on occasion. “As long as you remember your job as Overlord Blanket.”
Rosie gasps and starts to wiggle her way under the covers while he rounds the bed. “As if! I’m better at my job than you are at yours.”
He falls forward onto the bed as if stabbed. “How cruel you are to me, Overlord Blanket!” He turns over to look at her with his head tilted back to press into the bed and his eyes bright with mischief. “Truly. I, a simple pillow, cannot best you in combat. You would attack a poor defens--”
She smacks him with a pillow. “I’ll do it once and I’ll do it again. Get in position.”
He bats away her pillow and laughs. It rebounds around the room, taking her to tea times in a cabin and books read with his head in her lap. “Alright, alright. I’m going. I’m going.”
“That’s what I thought.” As soon as he’s in position, she snuggles into his side, rests her head on his chest, and sighs with joy.
///
He does not drop the subject of a prosthetic.
The next morning, when they’re pressed together on the couch with empty breakfast plates and fingers entwined while they read from the same book, Lucifer closes the book and asks, “Oh, right. Can we find Harold to measure him for the prosthetic?”
Rosie groans and presses her head into the side of his. “He doesn’t want one. We stopped trying for new ones because he got tired of it.”
“But we’ll be making this one! It will be perfect, trust me.” He starts to get up, but she doesn’t want to. The instant she’s outside this house, she’ll have to be an Overlord with responsibilities. No, she’s not ready for that.
She grabs him before he can get up completely and presses him into the couch. He sucks in a breath and his eyes go wide. “Rosie?”
“I am staying right here. And so are you. We will finish the current chapter we are on.” She presses her hands into his shoulders. “Understood.”
He bites his lip before responding. “Yup. Uh huh.”
///
Harold is surprised to be pulled into her backroom. Dany is surprised that Rosie is pulling Harold into her back room. Rosie is surprised that she’s pulling Harold into her backroom.
But Lucifer asked, so nicely, with fluffy hair and that smile that shines, and it had tasted of sunshine, and how is she to resist THAT? She can’t. It’s impossible.
“Wha-- Oh. Hi Lucifer.” Harold looks around the backroom like he’s never been here before (he has, Rosie has literally made him suits and other clothing designed for him to use more easily with his one arm). “Did you need something? Everything okay?”
Oh, boy. Lucifer is charming when he bounces over, all energy and smiles, and yanks Harold over to a side table. “Yes! I heard you don’t like prosthetics.”
“Um.” Harold looks at Rosie as if she’s supposed to save him from Lucifer. She shrugs. “Not really, no.”
“Pain? Discomfort?” Lucifer sits Harold in a chair next to the table and then grabs a measuring tape.
“Yeah.” Harold doesn’t move away from Lucifer, but he does look at Rosie every few seconds. She assumes he’s making sure she’s okay with whatever’s happening. She doesn’t even know what’s happening. “Never could find one that worked well.”
Lucifer hums and nods and hums some more. Then, without much warning, yanks the measuring tape up to his eyes to give it a hard look, hums at the tape, and then starts to measure Harold. “Fairly common, I’ll have you know. Improperly fitted prosthetics might be the pain factor. As well as weight, material, etc.”
Harold holds up the bit of arm he has left without complaint. “Yeah. Okay.”
Rosie shrugs next time he looks at her. Lucifer continues to explain common reasons for pain, chafing, and skin irritation. Harold starts to look grumpy.
“I do know how they work, I am a doctor.” Harold mutters under his breath, but Lucifer seems to hear it because he pulls away.
“Of course.” Lucifer snaps his fingers. “As a doctor, you’ll need one with fine motor control and lightweight because you’re moving a lot. Hard to get both, unfortunately. Unless…” He tilts his head, a little bit of a smirk mixed with a grin, and leans over Harold just a touch. “You’re me.”
“Uh-huh.” Harold nods. “I don’t need a prosthetic.”
“I know.” Lucifer says as he throws the tape measure up. It disappears in a burst of red and gold. A pencil appears in his hand and he turns to draw in the air, the tip of the pencil glowing gold. “But let’s try again. Just once. I don’t want to make you feel like a lab rat or anything. I imagine, with your history, that might have some painful memories attached.”
Harold twitches.
“What history?” Rosie looks between Harold and Lucifer.
“Don’t worry about it.” Lucifer and Harold say in sync while Lucifer continues, “Let’s see. We want fine motor control, high articulation, and titanium for lightweight.” As he draws, gold weaves through the air and lays itself out in an outline that looks remarkably arm-like. “Matching skin tone for full fake look or embrace the cyborg?”
“Are you asking me?” Harold blinks at Lucifer and Lucifer nods. “Um. Maybe not full cyborg, but I don’t like the idea of it looking like me.
“Understood.” Lucifer continues his drawing with a hum. “I could just poof this into existence, but it’s more accurate this way. Sorry about the wait.”
“No problem.” Harold turns to Rosie and mouths, “What’s happening?”
Rosie shrugs for what feels like the millionth time and Harold sighs.
“You might want to take a seat Rosie, I’m going to take my time and make sure this is right.” Lucifer’s voice comes from all corners of the room as his body gives off a slight glow. “If it’s one and done, I want it to be a good one.”
“Sure thing, love.” She sits at the table and puts her elbow on it. Lucifer isn’t really listening. He’s not quite in his body right now, if she had to guess from the warping at the edges of the room and the pressure rising. “Take your time.”
She doesn’t understand why Harold is grinning. She waves a hand to get him to say something, but Harold just leans over and whispers. “You’re an idiot.”
“Dany says that on occasion, what’s making you say that now?” Rosie is almost amused at how comfortable certain cannibals have gotten with calling her an idiot.
“You usually call him Sunshine, right?” Harold’s smirk is irritating. She nods. “Cool. Just making sure.”
“What are you--” Lucifer turns in that moment and the world becomes space. Stars and galaxies, black and blinding light intermixing, a universe around them, and then it collapses back down into her Emporium back room. She’s dizzy.
“Done!” The golden outline has turned into a fully gold drawing. There’s shading, renditions of art along the arm, and a Rod of Asclepius carefully engraved on the side from elbow to wrist. Lucifer claps and the drawing drops as a real arm into Lucifer’s waiting hands. “What’cha think?”
The arm is now white, the art in gold, and Lucifer holds it up with a grin.
“That’s for me?” Harold points at his chest. “Me?”
“I did just measure you for it.” Lucifer smirks. “So yes.”
There’s no way to attach the arm. It’s just an arm. Harold notices first. “How-- How do I wear that?”
Lucifer looks at the arm, then looks at Rosie, and then looks at Harold. “Rosie will attach it. You’ll be fine. It’s a perfect fit, promise.”
“What?” Rosie puts her hands on her hips. “And how am I going to attach it?”
It’s like she’s said the sky was blue. He looks at her in pure confusion, as if he never thought she couldn’t attach the arm that he’s holding. He speaks slowly. “Rosie. Your power.”
“My power is not for attaching prosthetics.” She waves a hand at the arm. “What do I do with that?”
Harold makes the connection before she does, it seems. “Oh. The doll.”
“The doll?” Rosie mutters. It takes a second, but then it clicks. “My doll? How do you know about that?”
Harold clears his throat. “Dany mentioned it. Off-handedly. Once. Maybe.”
She’s going to kill Dany. That’s a trade secret. “And how is that related to this?”
The world warps and they’re in a basement with concrete walls and no doors or windows. She doesn’t recognize this place. The walls are scratched, two hanging light bulbs flicker above them, and Lucifer’s face is cast in shadow as he grins. A dark mass stretches from behind him onto the wall.
Then they’re back in her Emporium. “Sorry about that.” Lucifer shakes his head. “Had an odd moment of deja vu.”
Rosie nods.
“Rosie. Your power is manipulation. It’s tying things together. It’s binding.” Lucifer holds the arm up. “Put it in this.”
She doesn’t understand, but she casts her chains to the arm and treats it like a marionette extension. Her chains pick it up, wave the hand, and then swish it around like it’s a sword. “Yes, and how does this help us connect it to Harold?”
“You can do that?” Harold mutters. “I heard about the doll, but seeing it is different.”
The arm flips off Harold and then pats his head. She’s had a long time to refine her control. It moves around to rest in the air by Rosie’s head and gives Lucifer a thumbs up. “This is all chain manipulation. It’s not permanent.”
Lucifer gives a little clap. “Excellent. Harold will have much more control than I planned.” He hops over to Harold and gestures to the stump Harold has. “Put it in position.”
With a roll of her eyes, Rosie flicks a hand and the arm sails through the air and positions itself snugly, perfectly, where it should be. She waits.
Lucifer snaps and a needle pops into his hands. He sinks his teeth into his wrist, causing Harold and Rosie to shout, and then dips the needle in. When he pulls it away, it’s threaded with gold. His wrist stays open but doesn’t drip. “Now, sew and imbue the arm with your power. Together, we’ll give Harold full control.”
Rosie carefully takes the needle and her eyes follow the thread to his wrist. “What are you on about?”
“Trust me?” He whispers and pats her hands with his. “Please?”
“As if I could do anything else.” She takes the needle, pulls a chair up to Harold, and nods. “This might hurt.”
Harold braces. “Go for it.”
It takes some time, but it doesn’t seem to be painful for Harold. The needle pierces the metal of the arm easily, and then it pierces flesh and comes back and Rosie can do whatever she needs to make sure it’s a solid stitch. There’s almost no resistance at all. As Lucifer requested, she pushes her power into every stitch (just like she did for Alastor), but when she’s done, she cuts off the tail end of power so the stitches have to stand on their own without pulling on her body.
“There.” Rosie looks at Lucifer. “Now what?”
The arm moves. Rosie blinks at it. The arm moves, waves at Rosie, and then Harold inspects it. He turns over the hand multiple times, flexes the fingers, and then grabs the needle from Rosie’s hand. He flicks the needle into the air and catches it. “Rosie. I can use my arm.”
Rosie stares.
Lucifer giggles and gives a brief hop. He steps forward and pokes at the connection between metal and flesh. “You can take it off whenever you want. Because it’s attached using my blood, it will forever be part of you. Removing it does nothing to sever the connection.”
Harold nods slowly. “That’s nice. I kinda am used to not having an arm.”
“It will take time to get used to. Especially since Rosie was able to give you so much fine motor control.” Lucifer seems happy with his poking because he pulls back and puts his hands on his hips. “Mission accomplished. I told you it would work, Rosie!”
She stands and yanks Lucifer into a hug. While she’s doing that, Harold is standing and shouting. “Dany! DanDan! Guess fucking what?”
“Language!” Is the only thing Rosie hears in response. She buries her face into Lucifer’s neck and sighs. He’s good. He smells good. He’s good to her people.
“Can we make more of those?” She whispers. It would be nice. To give her people the chance to have full mobility. Harold isn’t the only one affected.
He pulls away from her to butt their heads together. “As many as you like.”
///
“Harold! Harold, you mother--” Daisy storms by them. Rosie will not be taking the blame for Harold’s new lease on life. Despite what Daisy says.
“How many times this week has he picked her up?” Lucifer sips his drink and presses closer to Rosie. They’re sitting on a bench in the outdoor garden, just being together.
“At least seven.” Rosie enjoys the warm day and the light breeze that’s drifting through town. She presses closer to Lucifer until their entire sides are touching. “He’s also done at least three handstands.”
Lucifer snorts.