The Devil's Redemption

"Bloody Hell!" Lucifer exclaims, bending over to pick up the pieces of decanter he accidentally brushed against, watching as his favorite whiskey pools on the stone floor. He's standing in the middle of his penthouse, running his hands through his disheveled hair, trying to decide the best way to clean up the mess, when slender arms appear behind him and wrap around his waist. He feels Chloe put her face between his shoulder blades, kissing him gently, wishing like hell that his shirt wasn't between them.

"Everything okay over here?" She murmurs into his back. 

"Humph," he replies, knowing she's not really asking about his broken decanter.  Everything is decidedly not okay, thank you very much. Chloe professed her love for him, and instead of taking her in his arms and kissing her senseless, all he did was sputter, "oh, uh that's, that's great but, uh, it's complicated, you know?." Stupid, STUpid, STUPID. 'What are you doing?' he berates himself. 'You are going to blow the one chance you have with this woman. Just say those words and stop being a bloody coward!' Instead he went to his bar to pour himself a very stiff drink, and ended up losing $1,200 worth of Macallan single malt.

"Bloody fucking Hell," he grumbles under his breath, just quiet enough that all she can feel is the vibration in his chest. Chloe is all he has ever wanted, his reason for getting out of bed in the morning, and the only thing he was able to spew after her confession is, "it's complicated." 'I'm such an asshole!' he thinks to himself, placing his arms over her small arms still wrapped around his waist. 'Here she is, trying to comfort me over a stupid whiskey bottle, when I should be comforting her because the eons of my existence haven't prepared me to face the consequences of my feelings for her.' He sighs, takes a deep breath and gathers his courage.

He turns in her grasp and gently takes her small hands in his. The delicate bones he holds reverently belie a steely strength that forges all the way to her soul, making her so admirable, so caring, so...Chloe. 'Do this or lose this,' he thinks to himself as he leads her over to the couch. "Detective," he starts out, shakes his head and whispers, "Chloe." He senses her pull away a little, preparing for something she doesn't want to hear. She's looking at him expectantly with her perfect, ripe mouth, her exceptional teal blue eyes, her soft silken hair pulled back in a messy bun. 'Arrgh! Concentrate fool! If you want her you need to tell her!' So he takes another shuddering breath and begins to explain.

"I want to talk about your...your admission a few moments ago," he sputters. "I know I hurt you because I didn't...I didn't say what you wanted to hear, but you must know how I feel about you." She doesn't respond, obligingly continuing to watch his face, searching his dark eyes for the "but" she feels coming. "Believe me when I tell you, I want to bellow those three little words out on my balcony so that everyone in LA can hear them..." She smiles sadly, squeezing his hands to get him to continue when he pauses. "But before I do, I need to tell you what is going to happen when I say them."

"Something is going to happen?" she whispers. This is certainly not what she was expecting. She looks at his handsome, haggard face for a moment, his beautiful eyes, dark as the night sky, darting from her mouth to her eyes, then to her hair. He caresses her cheek and lowers his eyes, nodding sadly.

She pulls his face toward hers, tilting his chin up so he's looking at her. She knows she wouldn't be able to do that if he didn't want her to, and it gives her the courage to bring her soft lips to his. The kiss is chaste, and he doesn't deepen it. 'Uh oh,' she thinks as she tries to squelch the dread that starts to creep into her belly.

He clears his throat. "Okay, I don't know how to sugar coat this, so I am just going to tell you." She sits back from him a little, holding her breath. "My father has strict rules regarding celestials "interacting" (he quotes with his fingers) with mortals, so when I verbally say those three little words to you, a tribunal will be held by my family, and they will decide what to do about my disobedience. Judges, juries and executioners all in one convenient package," he finishes with a grimace.