Devil May Care - Deckerstar

Chapter 10: Like talking to a wall

Chloe would never admit it out loud, but having had Lucifer leave the precinct before ten in the morning had made her day so much more bearable. She had left the house picturing just how much of a pain he would be, complaining about paperwork and not going on the field. That was how things ought to be for the first couple of months, though. Working only four hours a day on the premise that she was still breastfeeding and had a demanding little thing waiting for her at home (two, if you count Clover), meant that she wouldn't be able to take on cases by herself, and therefore, she wouldn't be going on the field unless it was extremely necessary.

Also, having Lucifer be the one taking care of Clover and not Maze had eased her mind so much it was almost unbelievable. Maze didn't have the best reputation handling small humans, and while she would know how to deal with any celestial outburst Clover might have, teaching her how to change a diaper had been an odyssey. She was just thankful to know she would get home and see her baby girl in one piece, and her house sort of not falling apart.

She clumsily pulled her keys from her purse and made her way into her home, not announcing herself as, well, it was her house. Lucifer would be expecting her, technically. However, when she realized the magnitude of the quietness in her home, she felt suspicious.

She walked towards the living room, pulling off her blazer and hanging it on the hanger alongside her purse, remaining in black jeans and a black, long sleeved tee shirt. Her eyes warily took in the looks of her apartment, and to her surprise, everything was clean and where it should be. That was nice. Walking into the living room, however, was what helped her find the reason why her house was so neat and quiet.

It was a picture she had seen before, an image that represented her day to day life with an uncanny resemblance. Yet, getting home and walking in on something like that, it made her heart feel warm. It was almost like invading their privacy, like she shouldn't be there, and yet, she couldn't bring herself to stop looking.

The devil was laying horizontally across the couch, on his back, suit vest and jacket long forgotten as only a linen shirt was covering his strong and muscular torso. He was breathing evenly, as evidenced by the slow rising and lowering of their daughter, comfortably settled on his chest. It didn't matter that she was two months old already, her favorite sleeping spot would always be her father's warm chest.

She was fast asleep as well, a conclusion Chloe was forced to draw when she realized just how calmly she was lying there, no squirming involved. She was on her belly, cradled into a little ball and with her father's hands wrapped protectively around her body, practically engulfing her entirely. She was really tiny for a two-month-old, given she had been born prematurely, which meant that Lucifer's two hands easily shielded her away from all the harm of the world while they slept.

Chloe couldn't quite grasp the reason why she was so touched by that living image, it was something she had already seen on many, many occasions, and yet, it managed to stir something inside her. Maybe it was all the hormones, maybe the sleep deprivation, she truly couldn't tell. She was just glad it was happening at a time where she could allow herself to just sit back and process everything inside her heart.

The detective made her way towards the coffee table and blatantly sat on it, not caring about it like she would if it were Trixie, per se. She rested her elbows on her thighs and leaned over, relishing on the living picture before her and taking its beauty in. They looked so peaceful, so comfortable, so much that a faint glimmer of heavenly light was coming off of them, almost like during the first day of Clover's life. Both of them were in their happy place and it showed, because it made her feel happy too.

Clover's feet were bare and it was only then that she noticed just how tiny she was compared to other two-month-old babies, or her own father, even. She had her naked legs propped up underneath her belly, ankles crossed barely past her bum, and she looked really comfortable having the hands of her father cradling her for comfort, putting a certain weight on her that made her feel safe. For comparison's sake, a foot of hers was narrower than two of Lucifer's fingers pressed together. After all, she was barely over nine pounds heavy, she was tiny.