Castaway

Beliver

Chapter Notes

Long chapter today! This is one of my favorites in the first half of the story -- I do hope you like it. Thanks as always to everyone who takes the time to comment, and thank you so much to the many folks who helped me with the translations in this chapter :)

Chapter title credit goes to Imagine Dragons.

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She has a tense hour the next morning when she waits to see if he'll show up, but he doesn't. Not that that necessarily means anything. He could be running late, after all. Lucifer and schedules are like wolves and bunnies. The former exists to rip the latter to pieces.

She thinks about calling him, but the Schrödinger's cat idea keeps coming into play. If she doesn't call him, doesn't discover he's not interested in being her partner anymore after she literally walked out on him, then... they're okay. They're okay, and—

She blinks as a steaming Starbucks cup appears in front of her, set down by a long, familiar arm, which is bedecked at the wrist by a shiny, familiar cufflink.

"You... came," she says, goggling.

He frowns. "Of course, I bloody came." 

"I thought..."

He leans his hip against her desk. "Well, you thought wrong, Detective," he replies, each word smooth and rich like decades-aged bourbon. He smiles wanly at her, as though he's expecting her to get some joke she didn't realize he was telling. But then she remembers. Well, you thought wrong, she told him when he showed up at the scene of Genevieve's murder, in a conversation remarkably opposite to this one.

She rolls her eyes, which prompts his smile to widen. 

Some of the tension leaks out of her body.

She takes a sip of the coffee while he steps away to grab a chair. One non-fat almond-milk latte with sugar-free caramel drizzle. Exactly the way she likes it. "Thank you," she says, swallowing.

"You're quite welcome."

The air feels warmer as he sits beside her.

She bites her lip. "I know I've been saying sorry a lot, lately, but—"

"May I... speak freely?" he says, cutting her off in that same aged-bourbon tone he used before.

"Um." Her heart skips. "Okay." 

"I'd like a favor from you," he says.

"A favor?" She swallows. "Like... a favor favor?"

He regards her for a long moment. "Yes. A deal with the Devil, as they say." His teeth flash wolfishly as he grins at her. "Are you game?"

She clenches her fingers around the coffee cup. "What deal would that be?"

"Well, in theory, I've no desire to be offended every time I upset you via my mere existence," he says. "In theory, I understand that you're dealing with an incredible amount of new and objectively upsetting information. So, I would appreciate it if you would stop apologizing to me as if I were offended, and pretend as if I am not."

She can't stop a small chuckle from popping loose from her mouth. "You're big on turning the tables today, aren't you?"

"I'm working on it," he says, eyes twinkling just a little. "In theory."