Hi. I'm the broken anon who commented on Lucifer calling Chloe his girlfriend. I really, really liked your fic where Lucifer calls Chloe his wife. Oh, sweet Deckerstar. And chance of a quick scene where Chloe claims him back? Let's face it he'd really like that.
ah, well partial credit to you, nonnie! I’m not sure I can manage a whole nother 5+1 but I bet I could come up with a little something. fair warning, it gets just a little steamy…
They’re looking for a house. Not that Lucifer’s penthouse isn’t wonderful, but Trixie is getting older and with tentative talks about expanding their family, Chloe doesn’t exactly love the idea of raising their child above a nightclub.
Lucifer owns plenty of properties, beautiful, luxurious places, but Chloe confides in him the night they sort through all his real estate. “I want it to be something we choose together, the both of us.”
He studies her with dark eyes. It’s one of those moments where his inhuman nature doesn’t understand, but he concedes to her wishes with a soft kiss. “If that is what you desire, my love,” he says against her mouth.
“It’s not all I desire,” she replies and tugs him down against her.
So they begin meeting with Lucifer’s real estate agent, an affable man in his mid-fifties named Frank. They look at house after house, but nothing fits, nothing is just quite… Right. They discuss the possibility of building a house when Frank calls them up.
“I think I found what you’re looking for.”
He sends them an address and a date. Frank’s car is already there when they pull up. From just the outside, the house already seems to fit their needs, quaint enough to please Chloe and modern enough for Lucifer’s sensibilities.
Frank is inside and another agent, a woman named Cathy, talks with him. She approaches and Chloe takes her hand.
“Cathy Rhodenbaugh, good to meet you.”
“Chloe,” she introduces, “and this is my husband, Lucifer.”
It startles him, even though it shouldn’t. It’s just usually it’s: “This is my partner.” or variations thereof. It distracts him enough that it’s only because he’s been doing similar introductions his whole life that he can reach out and clasp Cathy’s hand in a firm shake and reply, “A pleasure.”
“I think this might be the one, Mr. Morningstar,” Frank says, looking pleased. “Great views, good schools, close to the beach, but not too close.”
“By all means, take us through.”
Frank and Cathy show them around the house and it seems almost too perfect. Lucifer can easily see Chloe scrambling eggs in the kitchen, or sitting out on the porch, taking in some sun. It’s an unbelievably good location and the house is in wonderful shape.
Chloe asks the questions, practically has her checklist memorized, questions about square footage and alternative energy, what made the last occupants leave, how old was the wiring. Frank and Cathy must have conferred ahead of time because they readily supply the answers. Eventually they’ve seen it all.
“We’ll leave you two to think,” Frank says, closing the door to the office Chloe and Lucifer stand in. There’s plenty of shelves for his books, places for his various collection of treasures to go.
“What do you think?” he asks her, she has a more vested interest in the proceedings after all.
She bites at her lip, drawing his eyes to it. “I love it. You?”
He nods. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
It doesn’t seem that his answer pleases her. “You’ve been quiet, what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing, it’s silly.” He shakes her off.
She comes close, wraps her hand around his elbow. “Tell me,” she requests, looking up at him with those ocean eyes. He caves.
“It’s just - you called me your husband.”
She looks a little amused, a little confused. “You are my husband, Lucifer.”
Something must click for her, because her eyes suddenly sparkle deviously. She steps more into his space, backing him up until he feel the edge of the desk press against him. He leans against it as she insinuates herself to stand between his legs. He’s not sure what’s happening, but his body is starting to react to her nearness, to the darkening in her gaze.
“Lucifer,” she says, running a hand through his hair, she angles forward till her mouth brushes the shell of his ear. “My husband.”
He makes a small, helpless sound and clutches at her. She chuckles, throaty and sensual. “Chloe,” he says, voice rough as she shifts her thigh to press against him. His hips lift before he reasserts restraint over himself.
“Yes, o husband of mine?” she asks, eyebrow arched, the pressure of her leg against him driving coherency from his mind, heat pooling low in his belly. He bucks upwards briefly, before he grits his teeth and forces himself still.
“This - this isn’t even our house,” he reminds her, as her hands slide down the front of his shirt to rest low on his stomach. He fights the noise that tries to crawl up his throat.
“It could be.” Her clever fingers find his belt buckle. He looks up at the ceiling in a desperate attempt to maintain a shred of self-control. “I want it to be.” She slips her hand further down and he groans, lifting into her touch. “Do you?”
“Yes,” he says desperately, “yes, Chloe, please -”
They come out of the office, clothes a bit mussed, hair untamed. Despite their best efforts it’s clear what they had gotten up to. The two agents are waiting not too far away, Frank looks amused and Cathy slightly scandalized.
“We’ll take it,” Lucifer announces, voice pure gravel.
Frank grins. “The house suits you, then?”
Chloe slides her arm through Lucifer’s and beams up at him. “Yes, my husband and I just adore it.”
edit: read the companion story: “Five Times Lucifer Called Chloe His Wife and One Time He Whispered It”
