Deckerstar One Shots

A Red Aston Martin

Lucifer never broke a promise. Well, except that one time with Pierce, but he wasn't going to make a habit of it. When he made a promise he felt it deep down into the centre of his being. He felt it in his bones, in his heart, in his soul. That's why Lucifer was so torn. He'd promised Rory that he would be on earth, but he'd made a promise to Beatrice as well. It was a small promise, but he had given his word.

He did what he always did when he had a dilemma; drink. Now, this probably wasn't the best solution, but it seemed to help his nerves and helped him devise a plan. You see, he hadn't promised Rory not to go to earth, he'd promised not to interfere with her childhood. He had made no such promises about Trixie.

Lucifer shook off the feeling of betrayal that was spreading through him and did some quick math. Earth to Hell time was a bit difficult to figure out. His head started to hurt as he calculated. Trixie would be 15 now, turning 16 in just...two days.

Two days and the little girl he'd come to think of as his friend would be 16; old enough to drive. Old enough for him to fulfil his promise.

____

Lucifer took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of LA. It was a pretty bad smell, if he was honest (which he always was), but it filled him with an odd sort of peace. This was his home. He landed on the balcony of the penthouse and looked around. He'd expected a fine layer of dust after all his years away, but it seemed he had forgotten to let his cleaning staff go. The only thing out of place was a couple of manilla envelopes on his bar. He ignored them for the time being and poured himself a glass of whiskey. The familiar burn made him smile. It was Chloe's favourite bottle. He'd left it here just in case she decided to use the penthouse.

After he was satisfied with his drink, he turned to the envelopes. Each one was labelled in Chloe's neat handwriting. He picked the one off the top. "Rory, age 2". He had to hold back a gasp when he tipped it over. Picture poured out. A little girl with dark hair and a bright smile looked up at him. He flipped over one of the girl covered in sand.

Rory, age 2, Venice Beach

He flipped it back over quickly and ever so carefully placed it back into the envelope along with the other photos. He left them there, seemingly forgotten, and went to the bedroom to find his phone. Lucifer checked the date to make sure he did his math right. It was March 2nd, the day after Trixies' 16th birthday. He scrolled down his contact list, found the contact 'Urchin' and pressed the call button.

____

Trixie was bored. She'd been doing her homework for almost an hour. It was stupid and nothing like what the teacher had told them in class. She sighed and tossed it to the side, rolling over to search her normal hiding places for a chocolate break. She jumped when her phone screen lit up.

"God, she's good," Trixie whispered to herself as she moved to answer, expected her mom. The name flashing across the screen stopped her.

Lucifer

What should she do? Answer? Her mom said he had moved away, that she'd told him to leave and there were no hard feelings, but Trixie was still a little angry. What kind of guy leaves a kid? She answered anyway, preparing to give Lucifer a piece of her mind.

"Hello? Lucifer?"

"Beatrice," his still familiar accent rang through the phone, "it's good to hear your voice."

"Yeah, I'm amazing. What's going on?" He chuckled, filling Trixie with confusion.

"Is there any way you can get away for a few hours today? I can meet you somewhere if you like."