Hi! It says your ask box is open for Lucifer prompts, which makes me so incredibly happy, although if you don't want to write, that is totally fine! Tom Ellis wears glasses, right? What if Lucifer discovered that he needed glasses after meeting Chloe, but usually wore contacts b/c he's proud. Then, he gets sick and is too tired to put in contacts. Chloe comes to his house to work on a case, and finds him wearing glasses instead. I find this adorable, but understand if you don't! Just a thought.
Hey, nonnie! OKAY, SO - I APOLOGIZE FOR THE DELAY! I actually took off for New Orleans shortly after receiving this prompt, so that was distracting, and then upon my return I found myself preoccupied with work and other personal issues that inevitably delayed my ability to sit down and write a half-decent prompt reply :( So, the length of time between your ask and my response is entirely my fault, and not a reflection of my feelings for your prompt at all! I really need to get better at replying to these faster.
Anyway, I ended up writing about Chloe coming home to HER house to find Lucifer sitting at her kitchen table in his glasses. Short, but hopefully cute! Deckerstar, headache, H/C. Enjoy!
(image from here)
Chloe balanced the stack of manila case folders beneath one arm and jiggled her key in the knob with the other, swearing under her breath, hastily blowing a tuft of loose blonde hair away from her face. Perspiration beaded on her upper lip and forehead; it was hot, for April, and she was tired and irritated and pissed at her lack of discernible progress on this case. This guy was good, but so was she – she just had to keep telling herself that; look at it from a different angle, maybe go home, sleep on it, try again in the morning…
“Ha!” The key turned, the lock clicked, and she thrust the front door open with a triumphant huff, taking a moment to brush her hair out of her face and catch her breath, standing in the doorway and reveling in the air conditioning.
“Detective, you’re home early.”
She jumped and three of the folders slipped from her grasp, sending papers and crime scene photos raining down upon the foyer floor. “Dammit, Lucifer!” With a frantic double-take, while bending down to retrieve the fallen paperwork, she furrowed her brow. “What are you doing here? How did you even get in?” And then, “you’re wearing glasses.”
Lucifer, indeed donning a pair of contemporary black-framed eyeglasses, raised his own brow over the lenses. “Indeed. I let myself in. You said you needed help on this case, and I had the afternoon free.”
She quickly picked up her work detritus, shuffling it somewhat back into a organized pile, and straightened up with an irritated, resigned sigh. “So I see. Well, you can start by sorting through these while I use the bathroom.”
But, as she approached the kitchen table where he sat with a cup of tea and some paperwork of his own (the hell was he even looking at so intensely, she wondered), Chloe noticed that beneath the improbable eyeglasses were also some less improbable and seriously impressive dark circles, and that his cheeks seemed a little flushed in this light. She frowned. “You okay?”
“Hm?” Lucifer’s gaze flickered up to meet hers, and, yeah, she could see the tired dullness in his eyes more clearly now, and the mom in her recognized it as encroaching illness from a mile away. “Yes, I’m fine. Go, tend to your excretory needs.”
She pressed her mouth into a thin line, evaluating him with a more clinical eye. Without word or warning, she extended a hand and rested the back of it against his forehead (hot, yep, definitely getting sick). Lucifer made a comical expression beneath her hand, and a cheeky smirk pulled up the corner of his mouth. “Playing nurse, are we?”
“Maybe.” She lowered the hand, and her gaze softened. “Does your head hurt, Lucifer? Is that – the glasses?”
He squinted up at her, replying with a derisive little huff, and then suddenly deflated with a weary sigh. “Throbbing like an unsatisfied member.”
Chloe responded with an amused huff of her own, taken aback by the joke, but she reached back up to cup her palm across his forehead this time. His eyes closed, and she gently pressed her thumb and middle finger into his temples. It wasn’t quite the right angle, she’d need two separate hands for that, but he sighed with quiet relief nonetheless. Encouraged by his affirmations, she set down her work folders and used both hands to rub his temples, index and middle fingers applying correct and equal pressure to both sides of his forehead – little circles, gentle but firm, tenderly attentive. Enough to close his eyes and part his lips with a small breathy sigh. “’s amazing, Detective,” he mumbled, acquiescing fully to her ministrations with a final slump of his shoulders.
Chloe smiled, a real one, full of fondness, and leaned down to plant a little kiss into the fragrant crown of his soft hair. “Well, what are partners for?”
Lucifer’s eyes opened at that, expression openly surprised as a teenage boy’s, and he wordlessly tilted his chin up to meet her lips in a proper (if chaste) kiss. They stayed that way for a second longer than necessary, lingering, breaking the gentle seal of their lips and holding contact with their eyes. Through the headache, he smiled back at her. “Don’t need my bloody glasses to see this clearly,” he murmured. “Thank you, Detective.”
She smiled back again, paperwork forgotten. “Anytime, Lucifer.”
