InsaneJournal

After a failed attempt to have a proper conversation at the Deck 5 Lounge, Lucifer had managed to secure several bottles of liquor for his own room, and invited Hawke to drop by. The idea that the night might turn into more than conversation and drinks wasn’t lost on him, even if he still hadn’t determined what it was that he desired.

And Hawke. Hawke was fierce and witty and quite obviously battleworn. He saw it every time he looked at her, and twice now he’d stopped himself from acting on impulse. If he didn’t manage that the third time, who could stop him?

He heard a knock, and he got up to answer the door. Fortunately it was her and not a new roommate. And as it was, he did stop himself a third time. Barely. “Right, come on in,” he said, distracted. “There’s plenty of liquor to choose from.”

What was this woman’s pull on him?

It was a mutual pull, one that baffled Hawke in places, even though she understood parts of it. Like his eyes, that had that ability to look right through a person. Sometimes she felt like Lucifer could read her as if she was an open book instead of a carefully guarded puzzle of walls and reflective mirrors.

Her arrival at the door felt, at first, like some kind of awkward first date, and she was glad when he invited her inside and distracted her with liquor choices. Hawke had found some nice pants and a blouse with sleeves that seemed to flutter on some imaginary breeze as she brushed past him to take a look at his collection of bottles. "Maker, look at all of this! You really have been busy, haven't you? I wonder if you've got something in here I haven't tried yet..."

“I’m not sure,” Lucifer admitted. He’d bought a selection in Yorktown just so that he didn’t have to rely on the replicator. As interesting as he found it, he wasn’t certain how those drinks actually came to be. With bottled liquor, he could remain ignorant if it was by any means other than the normal process.

He waited for her to choose, then poured two glasses, one for each of them. If only Maze could see that, how he’d grown to actually be of use once in a while. “So you wanted to know about my demons?” Lucifer asked. “And not the ones that tortured souls for eternity. In my workplace,” he teased. “This could take a while, and you’re not off the hook, either. I have a feeling we could get at least another half dozen rage-fueled boxing sessions out of you.”

The drink was purple, which was definitely nothing that Marian had sampled yet. She pulled one of the glasses closer to herself and sniffed at it, trying to get a sense for how potent it was, or what it might taste like. After all, she didn't need to be so drunk she was falling all over him. And falling all over him was definitely a possibility if she lost control of herself.

"You seem to have quite a few, judging by the things you've mentioned off-hand," Marian said, then took a little sip of the liquor. It burned on the tongue just slightly, and she decided she liked the sensation. "And we've got nothing but time, don't we? Aside from you apparently scheduling these rage fueled boxing sessions for me in your head. I'm still not even sure where that one came from."

Which wasn't entirely true. But right now the conversation was about him. "So... we could start with your father. No love lost there, from what I'm gathering."

“I really should have just bought you a Bible at the antique book shop,” Lucifer replied. “All of my father issues are in there. But right, so… in the beginning my father and my mother… she’s left out of most books but let it be known, she was there. Anyway, they created the universe. Had some children, me and my siblings, and then my father essentially decided we weren’t good enough. We got into a bit of a spat and he kicked me out of my home. Then, due to his disappointment in all of us he created earth and humanity as one sick twisted experiment in torturing people into worshiping him, really. And if they chose not to, when they died I was meant to torture them for all eternity so they could consider how terrible they were without reprieve.”

He shrugged, and looked at Marian. “So I suppose you’re right. No love lost there.”

He downed his glass after that and poured another, wishing he had some Romulan ale.

"And with good reason," Marian breathed, blinking her eyes a few times. That was a heck of a tale, and her mind couldn't help but to start jumping through little comparisons between the story he told and her own world's mythology. "I feel like if I looked hard enough I'd find some parallels between your... 'Bible' story and The Chant of Light. But I'm no scholar. Anyway he sounds like an Arse, your father. Why wouldn't he have been happy with his own children?"

She watched him knock back his own glass, and was briefly glad that he couldn't get drunk. At least on any alcohol they'd come across so far. "And how did you end up with this... choice position in the family business?"

“I dared to argue with him,” Lucifer replied. “Questioned his authority and decisions. Rebelled if you will. Anyway, he wanted to end me apparently but my mum begged him to put me in charge of Hell, if you believe her side of the story. But I don’t really trust her, either. And he is an arse. Especially after the stunt he pulled with the detective…”

He took another drink, but only half the glass this time. It really didn’t compare. Maybe he needed to switch back to whiskey, just for the taste. “And nothing makes him happy. Not really.”

Another shrug. “Anyway, I should explain the detective to you.”

Marian was quite used to listening to people by this point in her life, and she could already tell by the weight of Lucifer's words that there this ‘detective’ was more than just some random person. Though what who they were to him, what purpose they’d served, she couldn't be sure. She took a good long sip of her own glass, as if bracing herself for something, and then nodded her head.

"Though I doubt that's the end of that particular subject... by all means, explain this 'detective' to me. Do I need to be worried?" Marian asked, arching one of her brows.

“Worried?” Lucifer asked. “Why?”

He leaned back, getting comfortable before continuing. “No, the detective is someone I met when a friend of mine was shot by some low-life music exec’s hired gun, and I didn’t trust the police department to properly punish the person responsible. See, I left hell about six years, before I wound up here, retired from my role of eternal tormentor of damned souls, and moved to a city called Los Angeles. Just over a year before I showed up here is when I met Detective Chloe Decker.”

He paused to sip at his drink. “She was annoying, but even more annoying was that she was good at her job, and together we figured out who was responsible. But then the bastard shot her so I had to make sure he was punished properly and then I had to save the detective’s life, right? So I did, and I think that’s the point where I became vulnerable around her, because prior to that I’d been shot several times and those bullets never hurt me.”

He considered that for a moment. Amenadiel had warned him that saving a human life had fundamentally changed things. But Lucifer suspected even his brother hadn’t known the extent at that point.

“Anyway, I became close to the detective, I started working with her because I wanted to know what had compelled me to save her life. Time went on, she refused to sleep with me, she was immune to my … talents, and I couldn’t figure out why. And then one day she kissed me.”

This was clearly the short story. “I’d just explained to her why I was terrible for her, how she deserved better, and then she was kissing me and right… That was bizarre. We got to the point later where we realized our feelings were real, and then I learned that Chloe was placed into my life by my father, who was using her as a tool to get to me, even going as far as making sure she’d been born in the first place.”

He finished off his drink and apologized. “I’m giving you the short version, I’m sorry. Because it’s still long. Anyway, I was furious, I went to confront her and found her dying. One of our past criminals had poisoned her, and long story short, the only way to save her life was to take a jaunt back to hell and get the recipe for the antidote. I did, she recovered, and I bailed. And before I could change my mind… I wound up here.”

So. There was that story.

It was quite the story. Marian had several questions, though she wasn't even sure where to start... and instead opted for finishing off her entire glass and then pouring herself a fresh one. The situation with this Chloe certainly explained quite a few things. Finally, after a few more seconds of processing all of the things he said - seconds that felt like an eternity until she realised she was holding her breath - she said, "I feel as though many of us are stuck in this sort of situation."

To better explain, she waved off in the direction of... probably a bulkhead, though she meant to indicate Kate's rooms. "Beckett was in a similar state, I remember discussing that with her. Well... the state of... things with my loved ones are left in limbo and I can't go back and fix things and words are left unsaid. And that's quite a lot for the short version even, I can't imagine the long one. But... I can understand why all of this would make you a bit shy about things."

She had some of her own reasons, too, but wasn't sure this was the time. "I'm glad you told me. And I think I'd have killed your father for all of his meddling. I can't stand it when outside forces meddle in my life."

“Are you stuck in the same sort of situation?” Lucifer asked. He was curious. Actually everything about her made him curious and he’d shared enough for the moment. It was her turn.

"It's... well." Marian looked down into her glass, and swirled it around bit. "No, I don't think I am. I might have been, at one point. You might have guessed from reading the things I've said, but things with Fenris were always a bit rocky. You build your walls until they're insurmountable because it's the only way to survive in that place, you find someone who can crumble them, naturally. But when they crumble at once and you're left with naked vulnerability. Well. You know all about that. You bolted. So did he. And then... there was someone else for a bit, and then..."

This was all a little too close to home, if she was being honest. The sorts of things she didn't tell anyone, the things she only thought about when she was left alone with her thoughts too long. "The second person, what he did was unforgivable. And his last words will always be etched in my memory, because they were the last things he said before I killed him."

She took a deep breath, and then let it out and added, "I don't think this purple stuff is strong enough."

Lucifer stared at Marian, watching as her defenses did in fact crumble before him. He was about to respond when he got an alert on his PADD, causing him to curse softly once he caught sight of what it said. “Alright, I’ve been assigned a new roommate,” he said. “Let’s move this to my room?”

He didn’t wait for her response, just took the bottle of whiskey and the two glasses with him into his room, and then he came back for her.

Taking both of her hands, he lifted her easily from the couch and led her into his room, and then closed the door behind them. And then for a fourth time, he fought off the urge to kiss her, instead placing his hands on her arms and looking straight at her. “What did he do?” he asked simply. Whatever it was, she clearly wasn’t too comfortable talking about it, but he’d already determined that she would.

What might have been an incredibly inconvenient occurrence had they been discussing something else turned into a boon. Marian allowed Lucifer to guide her into his room, trying not to let her walls crumble even further at the skin contact. But the few seconds they had to shift locations helped her to compose herself.

Not that this conversation was getting any easier. In fact, she felt like she was navigating some ancient cave of impossible secrets, where every step might collapse underneath her. But at least, Marian thought, she might get through this bit without embarrassing herself. Though she couldn't force herself to meet his eyes, and instead looked over at the wall.

"Anders..." And saying the former Mage's name felt exactly like getting stabbed in the chest, "It's a long story, Lucifer. Possibly not as long as yours. Do you remember when I told you what happens to Apostates who are captured? Anders had a lover before I met him, who was dragged to the Circle. Anders himself had already escaped once... the cause of the Mages was... more important to him than anything in the world. So important he blew up an entire Chantry. That would be equivalent to... A cathedral, I suppose. A temple. One filled with people, including the Revered Mother."

“And what did he say to you, before you killed him?” Lucifer asked quietly.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad it was you," Marian whispered, quoting him. Her eyes sunk shut, and she rested her head back against the door. "It was nice to be happy, for a while."

Her hand twitched, and she let out a long sigh. That moment had haunted her for nearly 7 years. There had never been a good time to talk about it, or deal with it, and who could she even vent to? What shoulder was available for The Champion to cry on?

The Devil's, apparently.

“At least a half dozen boxing sessions,” Lucifer murmured, wondering how long that had been weighing on Hawke. Months at least. Years?

The last of his self-discipline fell along with the walls she'd so carefully constructed, and he closed the distance between them, until they were up against the door, his mouth pressed to hers with a sense of urgency.

He was no longer willing to wait on the off chance that the detective would arrive and give him a second chance to make things right. He was here, hundreds of years in the future and so was Hawke, currently on the verge of breaking down. He could deal with that in a variety of ways, but Lucifer certainly knew his preference.

There was always the chance that she'd end up back on Thedas, where Fenris still resided in their off again, on again state. There was the chance that Lucifer would end up being sent away, or that his detective would show up here on the Enterprise one day. There were all kinds of reasons why this might have been a bad idea.

Marian didn't care about any of them. Right at that moment Lucifer's way of dealing with this situation was exactly what she needed. Her kiss in return had nearly as much force behind it as the punches she'd thrown at him before, and she didn't even realize there were tears rolling out of her eyes until she could taste the salt on their lips. That didn't stop her. Hopefully it wouldn't stop him, either.

So she was an emotional mess. He knew that, already, didn’t he? What surprised Lucifer was that he didn’t care. Hell, it somehow made her all the more attractive, volatile and unpredictable. Emotional attachment was the furthest thing from his mind as he pulled her toward his bed, forgetting everything he’d left behind and not concerned at all with the future.

He was the devil, after all. Consequences be damned.



***


The most impressive thing about waking up the morning after an emotionally charged night of fantastic sex was... actually the part where the night before had even happened. For a girl like Marian, that was already a huge step up. But the second most impressive thing about nights like that was when you woke up the next morning and the other person was still there.

And of course he would be. This was his room, after all. Marian yawned, and stretched, and made a mental note to keep any and all cuddling a preciously guarded secret. She didn't know the protocol for waking up in someone else's bedroom. Did she leave? Did they talk about it? Talking about it would probably be weird.

For the moment, she decided to roll away a bit and take in the glory of the view laying next to her.

Even before he opened his eyes, Lucifer was acutely aware that Hawke was watching him. He could feel her eyes on him, observing. "Are you staring at me?" he asked lazily, allowing himself to remain in his state of only being half-awake.

The previous night had gone rather like he'd expected, only with far more of an emotional force behind it than he'd counted on. Turning his head toward Marian, he let his eyes drift open. "Sleep well?" he asked, his voice betraying the slightest trace of amusement. He couldn't see how she wouldn't have.

"Of course I was staring. If you were in bed with you, you'd stare too." Marian said, smirking at him. "And there's so many interesting things about your body besides the obvious, too... Like those odd scars of yours."

The scars that she'd seen before, that she'd probably scratched her fingernails down at some point last night. Not that there'd be any marks to show for it. That was the only bad thing about his current condition, as far as she was concerned. But she had slept well, and she nodded her head. "And yes... better than I've slept in years, in fact. So if I wasn't already going to thank you for a wonderful night, we can tack on my gratitude for a good night's rest."

“That’s probably true,” Lucifer admitted, returning her smirk with one of his own. But then she mentioned his scars, and he sat up, and turned away from her, fully exposing his back. “Oh, those old things?” he asked, though even once he considered that he’d traveled over two hundred years forward, they were still quite new in the grand scheme of things.

“That’s where I had Maze cut off my wings, severing my ties to hell. I even burned them eventually, for good measure.”

"I've heard of burned bridges, but that seems like a special level of dedication," Marian murmured. "Though... I certainly see why you'd go to such lengths."

She moved a little closer, so that she could run a finger delicately over one of them. They were oddly rough, a texture she actually enjoyed the feel of, if she was being honest. She wondered how old they actually were. Old enough to have healed over completely. "How can this be possible? I could take a dagger to you right now and it wouldn't even scratch you."

“Demons where I’m from have access to blades that can hurt me,” Lucifer replied easily. “Which is why I entrusted the task to Maze. I trust her with my life. Quite literally.” And now she was gone. Was it any surprise he’d reacted as he did when he learned that.

“You could,” he mentioned. “You could do your best to hurt me and fail miserably. Except that one time you punched me in the eye and blinded me,” he teased, turning back toward her.

“Seems you have quite a few scars of your own,” he mentioned, tracing his fingers over her arm. Metaphorically and literally, it would appear.

"It's actually a relief that I'd try and fail. Aside from blinding you, I suppose. If that was even real." Marian snorted out her nose, sure that he'd been pranking her that day just to see how she'd react. She looked down at her arm, then, and shrugged one of her shoulders. "Every single day of my life from... just before the Blight onward was about survival, and most of that included battle. If it wasn't Darkspawn it was blood mages and their demons, or Qunari that saw fit to get in my way. Raiders who didn't know any better. Carta, too. Oh, and how can I forget Templars?"

She listed off the various groups of things she'd killed like some other people might casually list off a shopping list. And then she looked down at his hand again, noting the particular scar. "That one was the duel with the Arishok. He had a sword at least as tall as me. But are you sure you're as okay about all that as you seem? Was cutting your wings off the only way to be free of it all?"

Because the best thing to do after an emotional night was keep on digging up old wounds. Marian wrinkled her nose. "I think I'm ruining a good morning, now."

Lucifer listened to her laundry list, not knowing exactly what she was talking about on most of those, but he got the gist, that she’d fought and clawed her way through life. “So this is your vacation?” he asked.

The question about his wings didn’t bother him. It may have a year ago, but things had changed. “My brother stole them, hoping that once I realized they were missing, I’d want them back that I’d remember who I truly was. Instead I burned them,” Lucifer said. “They were just another connection that could be lorded over me.”

He shrugged. “This is still a good morning.”

"Removing all connection to bothersome relatives can be a boon," Marian admitted, with a nod of her head. She'd never have bothered to reclaim the Amell name or its rank if it hadn't been for her mother and her brother. And there were still times when she preferred to forget that her Uncle existed at all. "And yes - rather a lot like a vacation. I get to meet new and interesting people, some of which are quite amazing. Go interesting places, fall off boats and be rescued by handsome men, sail the stars."

The loose collection of strays she'd ended up taking in had all but scattered to the four winds by the time she'd ended up here. It's not like they needed her, and she'd have missed them whether she was here or there. "It's nice to not have to be The Champion for a while."

“You don’t have to kill anyone, either,” Lucifer added helpfully. Glancing at her, he added, “At some point, I want to hear all about what being the Champion entails. For now, you should decide whether or not you want to risk running into my new roommate now or in a couple of hours.”

He was in no hurry to get out of bed, especially while she was there with him.

There was that, too, of course. And Marian wasn't sure what life was supposed to be like when there wasn't constant battle or people needing killing. Mornings like this were a nice preview, though. Not that she was expecting to spend any more of them here. It was better not to assume.

So if that was the case, Marian thought she deserved to bask in it as long as possible. She smirked at him, her eyes twinkling with the sort of spark that usually meant trouble. "Why don't I bump into him later? I'm not sure I'm quite done with you yet."

“Mmm, that’s what I thought,” Lucifer murmured, reaching for her. It wasn’t like either of them had anything they needed to do that day. Or any day, really.