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A Lie is Just a Truth in a Trenchcoat

Summary:

Being dosed with truth serum shouldn't be a problem for a devil who never lies, right?

Notes:

Whumptober 2019: day 21: "Laced Drink"

You guys I love the shit outta truth serum fics and I kinda want to write another, longer one, but I shall Hold Off until the new year. I hope you enjoy this one!!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

"Well let's just see, then."

"Do-" Chloe couldn't even get the full word out before Lucifer was knocking back a mouthful of the fruity drink in front of them. "-n't! That's evidence!"

"I didn't drink it all, Det-" he stopped, blinking, and smacked his lips a couple times. "That's… interesting."

Ella popped up from where she was examining the body. "Oh man, did you just drink some of that? We still don't know what COD is-"

"The giant knife in his back isn't a clue?" Lucifer asked, sounding distracted as he looked around and then back at the glass on the bar, his face screwing up a little. "There is definitely more than alcohol in that drink."

"Thanks for your expert opinion," Chloe said with a sigh and drew him off to the side.

She didn't want to have to deal with his shit in addition to dealing with his presence. Not when she was still reeling over the… revelation a few weeks ago. Not when they were just back to work after her being suspended. Not when-

"Are you alright, Detective?" he asked, sounding tense and breaking her out of her thoughts. She shook her head a little, which he seemed to take as a no. "If- If you'd like me to go, I can-"

"No," she said before thinking it through. She wasn't sure how true it was, but it seemed to relax him until she said, "But you should get checked out before going home in case-"

Except it wouldn't matter, would it? If there was poison in that glass, it couldn't do anything to him, because he was the Devil and human concerns like that, well, didn't. Concern him, that was. He could drink an entire vial of poison and come out the other end no worse for the wear.

"Right," she continued, looking back to the crime scene instead of at him. Instead of at the judgment she was sure was in his eyes. She couldn't help it if she just sometimes… forgot what it meant that he was the Devil. "Do you recognize what was in there?"

"Can't say I do," he said, moving to stand next to her, facing the crime scene too. "It didn't feel like anything unpleasant, so I doubt it caused the poor fellow's demise."

She watched him out of the corner of her eye, looking away quickly when she realized he was doing the same. "Alright. I'll have Ella analyze it. I think we have everything we need here, so if you wanted to go…" She drifted off, giving him plenty of time to say that he did.

When he didn't, she turned to look at him, and he appeared to be struggling with something. Then he blurted out, "I don't," and looked utterly horrified.

Nice to see the prospect of wanting to spend more time in her company was that awful. Just the ego boost she needed at the moment.

"I didn't mean to say that," he said, his eyes wide and oddly scared. "I didn't- Why would someone dose him with a truth serum before killing him, Detective?"

"Truth serum isn't real," she said automatically, and then, "And what would it matter if it was? I thought you didn't lie."

"I don't!" he said, sounding offended. And then, reluctantly added, "But not lying isn't the same as- as telling the whole truth."

"So you do lie," she said, half to poke at him and half still hurt over knowing he could have proved he wasn't human at any time and had chosen not to for years.

"It's not the same," he said, but his voice was weak and she thought maybe he knew it was.

"Can you keep working, or do you need to leave?" she asked, her impatience bleeding through.

"I- I should leave but I don't want to," he said, immediately looking stricken. "I miss you," he added and took a step away, clamping his mouth shut.

"We've seen each other nearly every day for the past week and a half," she said, something uncomfortable in her stomach.

"It's not the same. We're not the same," he said, his voice small, and he looked sick.

Oh. That- That was fair.

"It can't be the same," she told him. "Not now that I know what you are."

He looked… crushed was the only way to describe it. Like she had taken a beloved possession and threw it on the floor. Like his heart was breaking. It made her feel sick inside, seeing him in so much obvious pain. Pain that he probably wouldn't be showing if he wasn't currently roofied with something acting a lot like a truth serum.

"Okay," she said as he opened his mouth to say something else. "You should go. We have everything we need here, so I can walk you out and make sure no one tries to-"

"Will you come with me?" he interrupted.

"I just said-" she started, but he shook his head.

"To Lux," he explained, "Can we pretend just for a few hours that we- that nothing- just for a bit?"

He sounded so unhappy, so sad and desperate, that she didn't tell him they could never be the same again, that it wasn't a good thing to try to pretend, that she couldn't be expected to do that. She just agreed and took his arm.

"We're going to head out," she called to Ella as she angled them toward the door at the back of the bar. If Ella said anything to them, Chloe didn't hear it.

Lucifer managed to keep his mouth shut until they were in the car. "You don't need to humor me, Detective," he said as she pulled out of the bar parking lot and onto the road.

When she glanced at him, he was staring out the windshield, his eyes a little glassy. "Do you not want me to go with you anymore?"

"I always want you with me," he said. Frustration and sadness colored his features as he added, "Always."

She took a moment to digest that as she stopped at a red light. She shouldn't take advantage of this. There were so many things she desperately wanted to know but couldn't be sure of getting a straight answer out of him, except for now. But it wouldn't be right, not when he looked so pained every time he said something. Like someone was tearing his soul out through his words.

"I'll stop talking," she said, more to herself than to him.

"You don't have to." When she shot him a sharp look, he shrugged and spread his hands. "I'm an open book to you, Detective, you need only ask. This is, perhaps, more open than I'd like, but it's you. I- I trust you. And I like talking to you," he added with a rueful grin.

"Okay," she said quietly, digesting that. "Thank you." After a pause, she added, "I like talking to you, too."

His grin turned to a pained grimace. "You liked talking to the old me. Before you knew I'm as evil as I say."

She turned a sharp look on him as she pulled onto the highway ramp. "I thought you always said you weren't evil. That you hate everyone blaming their evil on you."

He had turned his head away from her, looking out the window as he murmured, "I suppose I can't lie to myself either." Then, only slightly louder, "It appears it's true then."

"What?" she asked. She glanced at him quickly, but he was still staring out the window, his fists clenched on his lap.

"That I'm evil."

He sounded so sad she couldn't stop herself from reaching out and touching the back of his hand, perhaps the first time she'd touched him since she found out. He jumped and she jerked back, startled. When he turned to stare at her, his eyes wet and cheeks dry, she quirked a smile at him, something thin and not quite reaching her eyes. Then she reached out again, covering his nearest fist with a firm hand.

"You're not evil," she said softly, quietly. "I'm sorry that you think you are."

"It's a truth serum, dar- Detective. I can only speak the truth; that's how they work." He looked away again, but his hand had slowly flattened under her touch, no longer as tense.

"I doubt it's a magic potion. It just makes you tell the truth as you see it." She wasn't sure which she hoped for more: that he didn't tell her that magic potions were real or that he didn't point out that they had no idea what the drink had been laced with.

He just made a noncommittal noise and settled back against the seat, staring morosely out the windshield. When his fingers twitched under hers, she moved her hand guiltily. She shouldn't be assuming that she was still allowed that; still allowed to touch him like they were on the way to something more. Something different.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the car and Chloe didn't know how to break it. Things between them weren't good, and who was she to argue with the Devil over whether or not he was evil? But then, this was Lucifer. Sweet, funny, annoying Lucifer. She just couldn't reconcile the world's depiction of the Devil with him.

She trailed after him when they got to Lux, ready to run interference if anyone was there who would try to talk to him. The club was empty, though, and they made it to the penthouse safely.

"Are you alright?" she finally asked as the elevator door slid closed behind them and Lucifer immediately went to the bar to pour himself a drink.

"No," he said shortly, grimacing. Now that they were inside and she could examine him more closely, she could see that his pupils were dilated like he was high, and there was a faint, intermittent quiver to his bottom lip. "I don't think I like this high."

"Probably because you're not high," she said and deftly took the tumbler of whiskey he poured himself out of his fingers and set it down out of reach. "And you probably shouldn't be drinking that on top of whatever this is."

He watched her push the glass further down the bar top with a mournful gaze but didn't try to retrieve it. Then another uncomfortable silence fell. She fidgeted with her sleeves and looked around, idly taking in the disheveled appearance of the bookshelves, the blanket thrown on the back of the couch.

"I shouldn't have asked you to stay," he blurted suddenly. "I know you don't want to. You can go, Detective, I'll be fine in a few moments."

"What? Lucifer, no." Her heart was beating rabbit-hard in her chest, but she couldn't make herself reach out to him. "We're friends. I wouldn't want to leave you here alone anyway."

His smile was so sad as he walked around her to go collapse on the couch that she felt her own heart aching. She followed him, sitting down on the other end and pulling her legs up under her.

"I wish I could believe that," he said, almost mouthing the words more than saying them. She flinched back as thought struck by something physical and not just a sharp pain in her chest. "But you- you could barely stand to look at me after I-"

He shook his head and fell silent, staring off into the middle distance.

"It was a lot to take in," she said, sliding down the couch a little, drawn inexorably toward him. "I-"

"I'm so afraid now, Detective," he blurted. "All the time. Afraid that you're going to leave. I wouldn't blame you but I-" He took in a shuddering breath and she couldn't move, frozen by the knowledge that he- That he hadn't been just- That he cared that much. He finally continued, in a whisper, "Please don't leave me."

That was enough to break her out of her frozen stasis. She lurched across the space between them, grabbing him and pulling him into a tight hug. He buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, taking deep, shuddering breaths but not quite crying. His arms came around her, but stayed loose, like he was still giving her an out, even then.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said fiercely. "I- It was a lot, okay? A lot. But I- I was never going to- I was always going to get here, okay? To a place where we could- I was always going to get there."

She pressed a hard kiss to the side of his head.

"I love you," he said plainly, simply, and she gasped. He left it there, out in the open, for her to pick up or discard as she liked.

She couldn't speak. She wanted clarification, but she was afraid to ask for it, afraid of what he would say. She so desperately wanted him to mean that he didn't mean he loved her as a friend. She so desperately wanted.

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling away from her with a huff of a laugh. "I'm sure that's not something you want, not from something like me. But I- I can't stop. I tried, you know. To let go and move on, but I can't."

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling, tension radiating from every piece of him. He had never looked so defensive in all the time she'd known him, so like he was trying to keep himself from flying apart.

And she still didn't know what she wanted to say, what she needed to say. For perhaps the first time in their friendship, he had shocked her into silence.

"I'm sorry," he said again, so quiet she almost couldn't hear him.

"Why," she managed to get out, her voice rough. "Why would you be sorry about that?"

"Because it's not something you want," he said like it was a universal truth. Like it wasn't the furthest thing from the truth. "Because I'm the Devil, evil incarnate, and you can't possibly return my feelings. Because-"

"Will you stop," she said and he flinched away from her. "Just stop, okay? You're not evil incarnate. You couldn't be even if you tried. You're-"

She made a frustrated noise and got up on her knees, moving toward him until she was hovering over his face, forcing him to look at her. He blinked.

"Detective, what are you-"

"I'm trying to tell you that I love you, too," she said, but before she could continue he was shaking his head—which was good because she wasn't sure what she wanted to continue with.

"You can't," he said simply. "You can't. No one does, no one ever has, you're- As much as I appreciate that gesture, darling, you can't and you don't have to-"

"Oh, Lucifer," she said, and dipped her head down to kiss him.

He made a broken noise and dodged, slipping out from underneath her and away, off the couch, pupils dilated and eyes wild. She sat back on her heels and watched him as he shook his head and backed up out of arms reach.

"Detective, please," he said. She didn't reach out to him, not yet. "Please don't make this harder than it is. You should- You should go."

"Do you want me to go?" she asked, a peculiar kind of calmness filling her in the face of his distress.

A "no" was ripped from him with a grimace and hitched breath, gaze cast to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"Lucifer," she said again, and his gaze snapped to her. "Come back and sit down. And stop apologizing. I get it, you've been roofied, you don't want to be saying any of this but you don't want me to leave. I get it, okay? I promise I won't touch you again."

"I want you to," he convinced, not moving. "I always want to kiss you, to know what your hands would feel like on me. To-" He faltered there.

"Okay," she said. "If that's something you want, it's something you can have. I l-"

But he shook his head, talking over her before she could even finish. "You don't. You- Detective, my family didn't even- How could I expect you to? When I'm-" He closed his eyes. "When I'm this?"

The change came over him slowly, creeping up his body until she was facing the Devil, in all his burned, fire-eyed glory. She wanted to reach out, to caress his face and tell him it was a part of him and she loved all of him, even this part, as terrifying as it could be. That the problem was the- the magnitude of what he had revealed, not him. Her arm raised of its own accord before she froze then let it drop.

"I love you," she said, plainly, simply. "It doesn't matter what you look like. It matters who you are, and I love you."

"Please," he said, changing back, his voice soft and wavering. "Please, don't."

"How could I not?" she asked, helpless in the face of him. "How could I not love your—incredibly annoying, don't get me wrong—sense of humor and your kindness to everyone and the way you always get my coffee right and-"

He collapsed on the couch next to her, putting his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking, and she stopped. When he looked over at her, his eyes were wet but his face was dry, none of the tears having fallen.

"Will you-" he started but stopped, looking away. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his lips clamped together.

"Anything," she said, cursing her promise to not touch him, because he really looked like he needed something at the moment.

His laugh was humorless. "A dangerous thing to grant the Devil."

"Not when the Devil's you," she said, sure of herself.

"Would- Would you hug me?" He asked. "Just once, I won't- I promise I won't-"

"Don't promise anything," she said, reaching for him and drawing him into her arms, squeezing him tightly.

He was shuddering again, his shoulders shaking against her, and she rubbed a soothing hand up and down his back, whispering into his ear, "I love you."

He made a wounded noise and gasped in a breath. "Please-"

"I love you," she said again, not complaining when his arms around her closed into a vise, squeezing just a tad too tightly.

"Please, I-" he gasped, and she said it again. And again, and again, until his face was wet with tears and he was trembling like a leaf.

"I love you," she said and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his head, just a brush of lips, and he sagged in her arms.

"I suppose if anyone's stubborn enough to- to love me-" he said as he pulled back, his voice rough, "-it would be you."

"Exactly," she said. "And never doubt it."

"I-" his gaze was on the floor again, his hands clasped loosely between his legs. "I don't know if I can promise that. I- Faith has never been my strongest suit."

"That's alright," she said, using one hand to turn his face toward her and the other to card through his hair. "You won't need faith. I'll prove it no matter how many times you need me to."

She paused, searching his face, checking how high he looked. His pupils weren't as dilated, and while his eyes were red it was from crying, not from whatever drug had been in that drink. He leaned into her touch, making a soft noise.

"Can I kiss you now?" she asked, catching his eye. "Because I really want to."

"Please," he said, and, "There's nothing I would like more."

So she leaned in, one hand cupping his cheek and one in his hair. "Are you sure?" she asked, so close to his lips she was almost—almost—kissing him.

"You don't have to," he said, and she shook her head slightly.

"Are you sure?" she asked again.

"That you don't have to?" he asked, his expression falling and going to pull back a little.

But she wouldn't let him. "I love you," she said again. "And you're not the only one who thinks about kissing me all the time."

She would have expected him to dive for her lips, to be all enthusiasm and fire, but instead he slowly tipped his head down until he met her lips. It was a slow burn, spreading through her like a fire under ground.

Some time later, she rolled over in Lucifer's bed, snuggling up to him and tucking her head under his chin. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," he said, laughter in his voice. "I won't be doing that high again."

"Good," she said, sleepy and warm and comfortable. "Drinking evidence is bad."

"Yes, that's the bad thing," he said, and she could feel him smirking. "I-" he started and fell silent.

She pushed back a little, his arm immediately falling away from her. He wouldn't look at her. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Would- Would you tell me again?" he asked quietly, and she was pretty sure that was a blush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

"I love you," she said, and stretched up to press a sweet kiss to his mouth. "I love you." She pushed herself up the bed so she could say into his ear, "I love you."

He shuddered a little each time, gasping with the last. "I- I love you," he said as though he was testing the waters, seeing if it was still something she wanted, if it had ever been something she wanted.

"Good," she said, snuggling back down against him. "Because I love you too."

"You are-" he started, hesitantly, "-singular in the universe. In all the universes. I don't understand how- How I could be so lucky, after everything I've done, everything I am, but I- I'm so grateful that I met you."

"Mm," she said, joy fluttering in her chest. "It's taken us a while to get here, huh."

"I wouldn't change any of it," he said, his arm tightening around her again.

"Not even that I was dating Pierce? Or that you-" she took a breath, preparing herself to ask the next question "-you could have shown me you were the Devil at any point in time?"

He flinched and went to let go of her, but she grabbed his arm before he could move far and tucked it over her again, not needing to look up to see the regret on his face. She could feel it in every tense line of him.

"Would we be here if I had shown you earlier?" he asked quietly.

She had to think about it, and she could feel his tension growing with every moment, but she didn't want to lie to him.

"I regret the circumstances," he said when she stayed quiet. "But not that I waited so long."

"I don't think you did the right thing," she said, and he flinched beneath her again. "But," she said before he could say anything. "I don't think we're be here if you had either so, I say we just… leave it in the past."

"Alright, Detective," he said. "If- If that's what you desire."

"It is, for now," she said, then reminded him, "I love you."

Most of the tension flowed out of him at that, making him a much better pillow. She sighed a little and started pressing kisses to the skin she could reach without moving her head much. Soft, gentle kisses that weren't necessarily going anywhere. He hummed in appreciation, his hand coming up to run his fingers through her hair. In that moment, there wasn't anywhere in the world she'd rather be.

THE END

Notes:

Hey come join me on the tumbler at @someoneasgoodasyou or on the internet tweeters at @the_wanlorn!

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