The Secret Satan Project: 5
Welcome to my Deckerstar advent calendar, where you get a short drabble every day until Christmas, set in some wonderful near-future (ahem) where Lucifer and Chloe have overcome their present difficulties and decided to give being together a shot. They are still total amateurs, however, and are now facing their most fearsome foe… the holiday season. Which is particularly an adventure when you are dating the Devil.
“You know,” Amenadiel says, regarding the utter chaos of the small and petty mortal world (the ground floor of the mall) from his lofty perch among the heavens (the second floor balcony outside the Cinnabon). “I’m fairly sure I’ve seen something exactly like this in hell, Luci.”
“And I’m quite sure you have.” Lucifer leans on the railing, tempted to whip out a cigarette to ease the trauma, but he has already been evil-eyed by one of the tragic blobby individuals riding Segways, and if he gets kicked out of here, he will probably never find something to give the detective, and thus fail at life and boyfriendhood (it’s still astonishing, and yet delightful, that he, an immortal being and fallen angel of countless millennia in age, is attempting to go through these baffling courtship rituals with a little blonde human) forever and aye, Amen. He is used to being evil-eyed, and also failing at life, but Chloe is different. Thus the television has spake. Find her a Perfect Gift, or get acne, be cut off in traffic, or otherwise damned for all eternity. He has a bit of practice at that too.
Amenadiel sighs. “Neither of us have any idea what we’re doing. And it’s not like I’m going to find Maze something here.”
“No, to find something she’d like, you’d have to go to one of those stores with blacked-out windows and notices on the door that nobody under 18 is allowed inside. Or somewhere with chains and furry handcuffs, lots of them.” Lucifer smirks at an apparently particularly titillating chain-and-furry-handcuff-related memory. “Besides, you’re still about a hundred gifts and flowers and boxes of violent chocolates short of making it up to her.”
His brother looks at him with a doleful expression. “Do you think she’s ever going to forgive me?”
“Maze isn’t the forgiving type. Still, at least you’re trying, which is more than I can say for what you used to be doing.” Lucifer shudders as a particularly loud shriek emanates from the children’s play area, sounding suspiciously like one of the damned. “But enough about you and your woebegone love life, time to talk about mine, which is obviously going much better. What exactly do I buy the detective? She’s not really the jewelry type, chocolates aren’t enough, and while I am sure I could get quite delicious mileage out of the sort of things you could buy for Maze, I suspect the detective would think those were rather more for my benefit than hers. If I do get her a bloody present for this whole bloody runaround, it had better be good.”
Amenadiel thinks hard. It is difficult for him. He’s still not exactly reconciled himself to his life on Earth, but at least he has accepted that it will be a while before he sees the Silver City again, and he is going to have to earn his way back, properly. In the meantime, it’s brotherly shopping trips and heart-to-hearts about their respective relationships, apparently. He has no clue what women want, and yet is not about to admit this out loud in front of his little brother. “Police… books?”
Lucifer looks at him with a despairing expression. “Well, that was as helpful as a big wet fart in the rain.”
“Sorry, Luci. You know this isn’t my area of expertise.”
“Clearly.” Lucifer straightens up and adjusts his jacket with an expression as if facing down all the screaming hellish hordes at once. “It’s obvious, then.”
“What is?” Amenadiel eyes the Cinnabon covetously. Cinnabons are delicious, but he is not going to ask Lucifer if they can stop and get one. He’ll have to sneak in later, on the sly.
Lucifer sighs deeply. “That we’re doomed.”