please write something where azrael meets chloe!
“So, is that your human?” The Angel of Death does that unsettling thing where she can see any mortal on the face of the earth, no matter who they are or what they are doing – though in this case, she admittedly does not need supernatural powers, given that Chloe is standing just across the way in Lux. Azrael raises an eyebrow and whistles, ancient bronze eyes gleaming appraisingly. “That’s far better than I thought you could do, little brother. I’m impressed.”
Lucifer squirms horrendously. Trying to keep another dangerous female relative under containment has been causing him no end of trouble. Azrael is a different kind of threat than their mother, and she does not appear inclined to stay, but he has absolute kittens every time she looks in Chloe’s direction. “Sis, can you – please not do that thing where you look at her like she’s a dead cow in the desert, and you’re a buzzard circling overhead, waiting to pick her bones clean? And she’s not my human, not really. I’d say fifty-fifty split with Maze. More thirty-seventy with Maze. Twenty-eighty?”
“Then you’re missing out.” Azrael leans on the bar in her black leather biker jacket, the metallic shimmer of her eyeshadow catching the light of the revolving disco ball. Her fingers tap to the pulsing electronica from the dance floor. “What’s this music? It’s terrible.”
“Forgot how much I missed you, Az.” Lucifer has another minor heart attack as her gaze lingers on Chloe. It could just be frank admiration, but he can’t wait to get the literal personification of Death away from his — no, not his, that’s the whole bloody point – detective. “Look, if we agree that I’ll go find what I might have done with your toy, you stay away from her?”
“I’m not here for her. Yet.” Azrael shrugs, throwing back another shot of whatever jet fuel she’s already had a few rounds of, though of course it does nothing more than make her talkative. “You do remember that she’s mortal, Lucifer?”
“Far too well, thanks,” he mutters tersely, wondering if it would be too conspicuous if he rushed over pretending to have an urgent phone call from the station, some tragic pudding-related incident of Daniel’s, and dragged Chloe out. At least she’ll have sense, at least she’ll keep talking to the suspect they set up a meeting with here, at least she won’t –
Oh bloody, buggering hell. She’s coming over.
Lucifer’s frantic attempts to signal to her that he has the situation under control do nothing to deter her, as she steps up in front of them and glances between them with that particular kind of raised eyebrow she always reserves for anyone of the female variety she catches Lucifer chatting with. “Hey, so, who’s this?”
“Nobody,” Lucifer babbles. “Absolutely nobody important. Old – definitely not friend, who was just passing through briefly and is leaving tonight. Was supposed to be already gone.”
Azrael looks inordinately amused. Tosses her long, ink-black hair over one shoulder, offers a silver-ringed hand, and says in that husky, strong-whiskey voice of hers, “I’m his sister.”
“Sis…?” Chloe has heard enough about the family by now to have some guess as to who that is supposed to be. She looks – good girl – rather leery of taking Azrael’s hand, as Lucifer debates the merits of body-slamming his sister through the glass rack. He shifts his weight, determined to prevent any physical contact between them, just in case. “So, is that Ms. Morningstar, or Ms. God?”
Azrael looks judgmentally over at Lucifer. “Certainly not the former. Azrael is fine.”
“And you’re here for?”
“My little brother was very careless with something that belongs to me.” Azrael’s gaze is as dark and starless as the sky before a storm. There seems to be a cold breath of air running through Lux by virtue of her very presence, as Lucifer prays that none of the clubgoers will, oh, choke on a cocktail olive and force her into an abrupt execution of her professional duties. “I understand that you, as a detective, might be helpful in locating this item?”
“I’m a homicide detective,” Chloe says, more than a little coolly. “Unless someone’s dead, I can’t help. And it sounds like something you should take up with your brother.”
“I could.” Azrael shrugs. “You will have noticed, however, that he is not very…forthcoming with information.”
“No.” Chloe snorts. “That he is not.”
Lucifer finds it even more unsettling to watch his terrifying sister and the detective having something remotely approaching a moment of female bonding over his failures, than he did with Chloe hitting it off with either Maze or Amenadiel. He clears his throat. “Already told you, Az. I sent it away with Mum. Not here. So flutter off somewhere else and – ”
“Do you know where you sent it?” Azrael interrupts.
“And what could use it to come through?”
“Somehow I’m guessing the answer is not a fabulous parade of America’s Next Top Model winners?”
Azrael whirls to pin him with a stare that makes Lucifer’s witticisms shrivel up and die squeaking in his throat. Bloody hell, he will personally pay her bar tab if it gets her out of here. He shifts again, trying to keep himself between the two women, even as Chloe is standing on tiptoe trying to peek over his shoulder. Azrael, for that matter, is looking even more amused. “Not your human?” she says. “Could have fooled me.”
“Yeah, I think I can see the family resemblance.” Chloe puts a hand on Lucifer’s side, trying to edge him out of the way, but he still doesn’t budge. Over his dead body (not at all a figure of speech, given that he has ended up that way twice where the detective is concerned) is he going bloody anywhere. Where the hell is Amenadiel? Probably upstairs hiding under the bed, lionheart that he is when it comes to Az. Though if an immortal can have heart failure, especially given that Chloe is touching him, Lucifer is definitely about to have it.
Azrael’s gaze flicks between the two of them for a moment longer. Then she shrugs and steps back. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she says. “And both of you will be helping me look for it.”
With that, she turns and – doesn’t walk across the club toward the door, entirely, so much as she just isn’t there anymore. Lucifer remains rooted to the spot, staring after her, arm instinctively outstretched in front of Chloe, who herself seems slightly rattled – but only slightly – by her first full-frontal experience of a member of his sodding family who isn’t sodding Amenadiel. “Your sister,” she says at last. “Well, nobody’s going to accuse you of having a boring home life.”
“Not at all,” Lucifer mutters. “Detective, just… just stay away from her, all right?”
“Why?” Chloe looks up at him with her blasted usual pragmatism. “If she’s supposed to be the Angel of Death, she can’t actually kill me, can she? Just take me away when I’m dead?”
Lucifer winces. “Detective, please don’t talk about that.”
His voice feels caught in his throat. “About… about you dying.”
Chloe seems about to say something else, perhaps to remind him that it’s rather odd for him to be squeamish about dead humans, given both his day job and his former day job. But instead she glances down, catches his hand quickly in hers, and says, “Lucifer, I promise. I am going to be absolutely fine.”
“I certainly hope so.” He manages a nod. “Just. Still. Don’t go near her.”
“We’ll see.” Chloe’s eyes remain focused on the spot of Azrael’s departure. “I have a feeling she meant it when she said she’d be back.”
Most unfortunately, Lucifer does as well. He’s already shielded Chloe from the murderous wrath of one of his siblings before, and while he doesn’t think that Azrael is about to follow Uriel in this regard, it does nothing to ease the crushing, scrambling terror he exists in every time there’s any kind of a threat to Chloe’s person. Az wants the blade. They’ll find that. Then she’ll go away.
Then she’ll go away.