Lucifer barely raised an eyebrow when Trixie came home from UCLA that afternoon, the door slamming shut behind her. Puberty had taught him it was better to wait to get a good read on her mood rather than jump up and fuss over her at the slightest mood swing. (That was an almost lie. Chloe and Linda had tried to teach him that lesson desperately in Trixie’s early teenage years. It had taken Trixie hitting him with a meat tenderizer at the tender age of 15 for him to finally get it. Chloe had been in the room. It had hurt like Hell. Almost quite literally.) He heard her kick off her shoes a bit more forcefully than she needed to, but, when she saw him sitting on the couch watching TV as she passed through, she stopped and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. As far as he was concerned, that cleared the fact she wasn’t mad at him so he could focus on fixing whatever was wrong rather than apologizing for it.
“Hey pops,” she greeted and there was a weariness in her voice that Lucifer didn’t like. At all.
“Hello urchin,” he replied softly as she walked around the couch and settled next to him, huffing.
“I’m never going to outgrow that nickname, am I?”
“Are you ever going to outgrow being called ‘Monkey’?” Lucifer countered.
“No, I guess not,” she sighed.
“Then you have your answer,” he said simply, offering half a shrug. He knew she didn’t have a problem with either nicknames, but he also knew something was very wrong if she was complaining about it.
“Hard day at school?” Lucifer ventured as he muted the television and turned his attention to her.
“You can say that again,” Trixie scoffed, crossing her arms.
“What happened, darling?”
She fidgeted in her seat and Lucifer frowned in concern, taking her appearance in. It didn’t look like she had cried, but she was definitely subdued and that… That wasn’t something that sat well with the Devil. Beatrice was always supposed to be full of life, of joy and of passion. And this withdrawn version of her, although it wasn’t the first time he’d gotten to see it, never failed to worry him.
“I… I saw Bryan at school today…” Trixie admitted slowly.
Lucifer tilted his head to the side, frowning in confusion.
“But I thought you saw that dirty little maggot every day?”
“I do, I just…” she sighed in frustration and ran her hand through her hair, lightly pulling at the strands before she released them. “He was with another girl…”
She chanced a glance at her stepfather and Trixie could tell from his expression that he still didn’t understand what had upset her. Which also meant she had no other choice but to turn back to her mother’s old advice: Lucifer had never done this before and needed to be told everything in a painful amount of details if they wanted him to understand, especially if it had anything to do with emotions. Admittedly, he was doing a lot better than Trixie remembered him doing when she was little, but still. Young women’s drama was an entirely uncharted territory for him.
“I saw him kissing Clara,” she said, her head thumping against the backrest of the couch as she launched into everything that was on her mind. “And I mean, that’s totally fine, we broke up like, what? Two months ago now? So it’s not like I expected him to stay celibate for the rest of his life, but I wasn’t expecting him to go and… and… and… Fucking makeout in the middle of the department with Clara of all people! He knows how much I hate…” Trixie cut herself off, eyes opening wide as the realization hit her. “The mother flunker!” Beatrice exclaimed. “You don’t think he’s kissed her to get back at me, do you?”
Lucifer deliberately blinked and then raised an eyebrow. He held back from reacting to her use of her old swear word, but it had been a close call. She was old enough to say motherfucker without getting scolded, especially from him, but mother flunker had stuck between the two of them over the years. A running gag was what the Detective called it.
“Why would he? As I recall, and I’m sorry to say this, he’s the one who broke up with you. Why would he need to get back at you for anything? Now if you had been the one to break up with him, I’d understand. Petty revenge and all that. Maybe Clara is the one trying to hurt you,” he suggested.
“Oh that bitch. And it would be just like her too! Just today, she had the gall to tell me − me! − that my star chart was wrong! Wrong! As if I didn’t have the bloody creator of the stupid galaxy we’re studying helping me with my homework!”
“The bloody creator of the stupid galaxy you’re studying is sitting right next to you and is trying very hard not to get insulted over your choice of words, urchin,” he pointed out.
She shrugged and gave him a small apologetic smile. “Sorry, pops. You know I don’t mean it.”
Lucifer hummed in agreement. “But yes. It does sound like something Clara,” Trixie wouldn’t say it, but she absolutely loved the venom her stepfather managed to pour into her name, “would do. She knows you hate her, does she not?”
“Yeah. And she knows I didn’t take the breakup all that well. Hell, everybody in our year knows. It’s not like I wasn’t a living, walking mess.”
He nodded and leaned in conspiratorially, his eyes softly glowing red. “What do you say I pay her a little visit, hm?” Lucifer offered, his eyebrows lifting as if he was trying to convince her of how good an idea this actually was.
Trixie shrugged, dismissing the idea with a vague movement of her hand.
“I can handle her. Haven’t you and Maze been teaching me how to deal with people like her since I was ten? She doesn’t know who she’s dealing with,” she said, her voice carrying a strength not unlike Maze’s and if she could have, he had no doubt his little urchin’s eyes would have glowed with Hellfire as she uttered the assurance.
“I know you can, urchin,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he slowly sat back, Hellfire receding, pride shining in his brown eyes instead as Trixie curled up into his side, her head resting on his shoulder, seeking comfort. After all these years, it still amazed Lucifer that she would come to him whenever she needed reassurance.
When she had been younger, for the longest time he thought she was coming to him after a nightmare because it made sense. It made sense for a child to seek protection from something stronger than whatever monster was plaguing her and who better suited for that than the Devil himself? He was, after all, at the top of the proverbial monster pyramid.
As she grew older, Lucifer had expected her to seek comfort from her parents more and more, but the opposite had turned out to be what happened. Unless it was a deeply emotional issue for which she then turned to her mother, she came to him more often than not, knowing fully well that he was never going to judge her and that he offered an outlook on things that neither Chloe nor Dan could ever provide. Lucifer had quickly lost count of the number of hours he had spent on a couch with Trixie curled into his side, talking about everything and nothing, going from boys to homework to the occasional existential crisis and the meaning of life along with talks of Heaven, Hell, angels and demons. She hadn’t even raised an eyebrow at that, accepting the ideas for what they were: facts. After all, she had always believed him when he said he was the Devil and she had seen Maze’s true face before she was old enough to potentially attend Hogwarts. (Telling her the school wasn’t real had been harder than Lucifer had ever anticipated.)
While Maze had been the first person to ever hear about Trixie’s childhood idea of becoming the first President of Mars, Lucifer had actually been the first one to hear about Trixie’s interest in the stars. He had been the one to buy her her first telescope, teaching her how to adjust it, how to angle it and how to maintain it so she could see as far back as the lens would allow. She had sat through hours upon hours of him teaching her everything she could absorb about the stars, smiling proudly when he explained how he knew all this. Simple. He had made it all. That small phrase had sealed the deal. Beatrice Decker-Espinoza was going to become an astrophysicist if it was the very last thing she got to do. (She didn’t think it would. Not with Lucifer as her private tutor.)
And when that perfidious little leech of a boyfriend broke up with her two months prior, entirely out of the blue and three days before her birthday, Trixie, then a brilliant 22-years-old UCLA astrophysics student, hadn’t turned to her mother or to her father to hold her as she cried. No. Lucifer had found himself with a armful of a grown woman, staring in bewilderment at Chloe, silently pleading with her to tell him what to do. It hadn’t been easy, mainly because this was the first time Trixie had been dumped, but she had gotten back up, slowly but surely, losing more hours of sleep in favor of spending them on the couch with Lucifer, talking or reading, one of his wings draped over her shoulders.
“You know,” she started quietly, “the Decker side of me thinks I shouldn’t waste my energy on getting back at Clara and Bryan. The Morningstar side of me however? Oh that side wants to rip them apart. Slowly and painfully.”
Lucifer chuckled softly and squeezed her shoulder. He never said, but it felt wonderful to him that she thought of herself as, at least in part, a Morningstar.
“I think that’s Mazikeen’s influence talking, not mine, hellspawn,” he teased and she huffed a laugh along with him.
“I’ll tell my stepfather you said that, he’ll be really proud. He’s the Devil, you know?” Trixie teased.
“Oh? Is he now? And what, pray tell, makes you say that?” Lucifer replied, the two of them easily falling back into that inside joke of theirs, finding comfort in a chat they had had dozens of times before.
“He told me,” she shrugged easily. “I’ve seen it too. No one ever believes me, but he makes the best stepfather a girl could ask for.”
Lucifer huffed a laugh. “Well, if he’s indeed that great, what else could you possibly ask for, hm?”
“Right now? I’d ask for Devil’s food cake, it’s our favorite. Unless he had another idea to cheer me up?” Trixie asked, grinning.
Rolling his eyes in mock exasperation, Lucifer rolled his shoulders, bringing his wings forth into this plane. After some shifting around, unfurling them while sitting on a couch was annoyingly uncomfortable, he lazily curled one wing around Trixie, squeezing her shoulder as she hummed contentedly.
“That’s almost as good as Devil’s food cake,” she declared, a grin evident in her voice.
Her stepfather huffed in response. “Aren’t you quite demanding today?” Lucifer asked without any heat to his voice, making a move to get up which Trixie promptly interrupted.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Well, as the self-appointed royal baker to the Princess of Hell, I was going to bake her the Devil’s food cake she is so fond of.”
“Nuh-uh,” Trixie said. “I’ll have my five minutes of divinity first, thank you very much.”
There had been a time where Lucifer might have been annoyed by Beatrice’s antics, might even have said no to her had he been in a foul mood on that particular day, but the urges were long gone. She was family now and he found that keeping her happy had the same impact on his own happiness than Chloe being happy did.
“Insufferable offspring,” he muttered under his breath.
“Cuddly Devil,” she replied automatically without missing a beat, making him gasp. Another one of their inside jokes.
“You take that back!” Lucifer exclaimed, poking her in the ribs in retaliation.
“Nope,” she said simply.
Silence settled back over them as Trixie let herself be lulled by Lucifer’s heartbeat, his wings soft and comforting around her. She let her mind drift back to the first time Lucifer had begrudgingly agreed to show her the wings at her mom’s request. She could still see the tension in his shoulders as he had brought them forth, bracing himself for whatever assault Beatrice was going to throw his way at the sight of divinity. She had taken it in stride and the tension had bled right out. They never quite figured out why she wasn’t as affected by them as ‘regular’ humans were. The closest thing to a withstanding theory they had was to simply chalk it off to her being the daughter of a miracle. Then again, Trixie mused, it was hard to be bothered by divinity when the literal Devil had scared a bully of hers when she was seven and a demon had taken her trick or treating when she was eight. Hell had been too much of an integral part of her childhood for her to be bothered by Heaven.
“Do you even have what we need to bake a Devil’s food cake?” Beatrice asked after a few minutes, making Lucifer scoff.
“Please. Who do you think I am? I’m the Devil, not an animal. Of course I keep the ingredients on hands.”
Beatrice grinned. He had just as much of a sweet tooth as she did, if not even more, and he wasn’t one to resist his cravings. It didn’t matter that she had left the house they shared in favor of the penthouse above Lux to be closer to campus, Lucifer could − and would − very easily polish off an entire cake by himself if he felt inclined to.
It took another five minutes, but eventually, Trixie carefully pushed Lucifer’s wings away from her and sat up, giving him a small tired smile. Taking his cue, Lucifer stood, pressed a kiss to the top of her head and went to the kitchen, humming as he set out to bake their favorite cake.
When Lieutenant Chloe Decker came home that night, she found her husband sitting cross-legged on the floor, his majestic white wings spread wide and relaxed as Trixie expertly groomed them, mirroring his position on the couch above him. A half-eaten Devil's food cake sat abandoned on the coffee table in front of them as they watched yet another documentary about the cosmos, the soothing tones of Neil deGrasse Tyson’s voice filling the living room. And if Chloe cut herself a generous slice of cake and plopped down next to her husband to eat it as she watched the stars swirl prettily on the screen well… If the Devil himself baked you a cake, would you resist temptation?