DETECTIVE DECKER.

‘ i’m working on it, i promise you that, but you gotta give me SOMETHING. ’
it’s the bottom of the ninth. he isn’t just being implicated anymore : they’re fighting to pin a murder on him, & the prosecution is out for blood. one cop saying he’s innocent won’t hold up without concrete proof, an ironclad alibi, anything. the window of opportunity to plead his case is almost shut.
they’ll try him as an adult. twenty - five to life is the best case scenario, here, assuming they don’t shoot for life without parole ––––––– or worse.
❪ she told him she’d never let that happen. ❫
‘ what about your friend, uh — ’ case file flipped open, the name pops up after a few seconds of diligent skimming. ‘ mbege. you said he was with you that day, right ? think he’d testify ? ’
inception starters. // accepting !
‘ –––––– yeah, sure it is. that’s your thing, huh ? mind over matter ? seems kinda zen for a guy in your position, don’t you think ? ’
a tic of her jaw, steel gaze leveled as she swaps out her glock for a pair of handcuffs. everything they have is arguably circumstantial at this point, but it’s enough for probable cause ; more than enough to bring him in, & that’s all she needs. metal snaps against wrists, a satisfying click as the mechanism locks. one hand braces against his forearm while the other presses into his shoulder to steer him towards her car.
‘ save it for the interrogation room, gandhi. you’re coming with me. ’
inception starters. // accepting !
‘ what does that mean ? hey — talk to me. ’
a last - ditch effort to gain a little traction, but he’s looking at her like she committed the ultimate breach of trust & it’s terrifying. ❪ maybe he’s telling the truth. maybe he’s been telling the truth all this time like he said he would & she was too obstinate to allow even a hypothetical scenario in which it could be real. when i see something i can’t explain, yeah, i look for answers. he bled when her bullet grazed him, just like anyone else would. the devil doesn’t bleed, right ? the devil doesn’t exist. maybe ––––––– ❫
do i scare you ?
no.
‘ lucifer. ’
maybe none of it matters, because at the end of the day none of it changes what DOES : he’s made quite the lasting impression. somewhere along the line, he managed to get under her skin in a way that she just can’t seem to shake. & she cares. probably more than she should. it won’t end well for either of them.
she takes one cautious step towards him, a measured approach, testing the waters ; he’s never looked at her like this before. she doesn’t like it. can’t reconcile the man in front of her with the man who’s HAD HER BACK at almost every turn for the last seven months.
‘ okay. let’s say i believe you. ’
three feet away & she stays put, doesn’t break eye contact.
‘ let’s say — you really are who you say you are. start there. now are you gonna tell me what’s got you so scared, or do we have to keep going in circles ‘til i figure it out myself ? ’
inception starters. // accepting !
‘ can you — can you at least PRETEND to be taking this seriously ? ’
it never fails : back to the grindstone for a matter of minutes & he’s already on his third punchline. nothing she hasn’t grown accustomed to, except for the fact that he’s been trailing after her like a puppy for the past couple of weeks, complaining, quipping, & babbling in that way people do when they’re nervous. ❪ not for a lack of trying, but he STILL won’t tell her what’s wrong. ❫
she ducks her head as she side - steps him, mostly to hide an exasperated smile that isn’t — in spite of her best efforts — without a dash of genuine fondness.
actually, she almost laughs.
‘ i think you’re safe, anyway. nobody wants to kidnap a guy who never shuts up. ’
inception starters. // accepting !
‘ okay, you know what ? that’s it. i have been walking on eggshells with you for WEEKS now, just hoping that MAYBE you’d come around & actually tell me what’s wrong instead of — instead of shutting me out, & i am done. what the hell is going on with you, lucifer ? i mean, what could possibly be so terrible that you can’t even TALK to me ?? ’
her voice raises without breaking into a full - blown shout, but there’s an edge of desperation to it that makes her physically cringe. she’s frustrated ; even more than that, she’s WORRIED. & worry manifests into something that feels a lot like fear, because it dries her throat & leaves a leaden pit in her stomach every time she looks at him. i will never lie to you. he told her that months ago. lying by omission isn’t better.
it’s almost worse.
‘ i’m sorry, i’m ––––––– ’ a long, leveled breath is drawn in & released. tone softens, quietly distills as concern settles itself into the crease between furrowed brows. three tentative steps close the literal distance between them while doing nothing to span the metaphorical. ‘ i just mean — you can trust me. i shouldn’t have to tell you that. & this — whatever this is — i want to help. ’
the rest is unsaid, writ in steady eye contact :
i’m not going anywhere.
two word starters. // accepting !
‘ nice try. ’ UNBELIEVABLE. if she has to give him credit for anything, it’s his determination. she repositions on the couch, angled so that her back presses against the armrest & she can face him fully. dinner was a stilted affair, forced civility between him & the still colorfully named detective douche, any awkward lulls in conversation reliably filled by trixie’s innocent chatter. dan left before dessert. there’s a nagging voice in the back of her mind that says call him, check in, but the pinot grigio makes it a hell of a lot simpler to focus on what’s in front of her.
‘ wait. so, i say i owe you one & you — let me see if i’m getting this right. ’ she’s too sober to account for the swell of laughter that builds in her chest, the smile pulling at each corner of her mouth & the way a hand lifts to cover it. ‘ out of everything you could ask for, THIS is the favor you’re calling in ? ’
oddly endearing in its childishness, a decisive step down from the innuendos & recurring attempts to get her into bed that, at some point, started to feel like a TEST of her own resolve. it’s a shadowy line. they toe the edge every day. you can’t deny that there’s a connection between us.
maybe, then, a test is the whole point. like a first date — not that she’d call this a date : most of the time you know before the kiss, but sometimes that’s what it takes. a definitive yes or no. smile fades, eyes achingly bright, she’s looking right at him & she still can’t figure him out, even now, even after getting this far & establishing this TRUST that doesn’t come easily. she’s letting her guard down, again.
‘ ––––––– okay. ’
a softer tone than before. less self - assured. she leans in, smells the subtle musk of cologne & the sweet residue of his last drink that somehow DOESN’T turn her stomach. absurd, vexing, like so much about him.
leans in an inch further. she isn’t drunk this time.
she’s almost too clearheaded.
there are no fireworks when their mouths finally meet, no orchestral crescendo : but it’s warm. somehow impossibly familiar. nothing hesitant, nothing clumsy or uncertain. lips part & it’s an open invitation to keep going. truth be told, it’s better than she expected.
he won’t let her live this one down.
two word starters. // accepting !
‘ yeah ? why’s that ? ’ in the interim, she does a visual sweep of a girl who definitely hadn’t shown up in their pool of suspects. but it’s a cryptic remark, enough to give chloe pause & the distinctly unwelcome sensation that she’s MISSING SOMETHING. her badge clears its holster, held up briefly as a wordless identification. she can’t afford to leave any stone unturned, no matter how innocuous.
‘ –––––– what’d you say your name was, again ? ’
two word starters. // accepting !
‘ no, i’m ––––––– really not. ’
her face is starting to feel warm, but she’ll blame that on half a glass of wine & not enough central AC. they’re still walking this tightrope that’s as maddening as it is comforting, & she’s running pretty low on excuses of the WHY NOT kind. then it starts to feel warm everywhere until she has to look away, smile into her glass, reflect in that half - drunk, half - sober way that either illustrates poor judgment or the only time things have any clarity. she hasn’t decided.
‘ i don’t know what it is about you. ’
pondered thoughtfully, unexpectedly, with no real prompt for the sentiment. words often come a little easier, with a little more VULNERABILITY, at times like this. when it’s quiet. when there’s no one around but the two of them.
‘ i mean, you’re clearly nuts. ’ teasing, a turn of her head to smile instead across the finite space between her & him. ‘ you are — INFURIATING, on a good day. but for some reason, it’s like — most of the time you’re the only person who has my back. the only person i can trust. is that crazy ? ’
two word starters. // accepting !
‘ don’t move, hands where i can see ‘em ! ’
adrenaline is familiar : that’s not what stops her cold. he’s a KID. she’s gotten this far in the force by the skin of her teeth, by working her ass off — & by trusting her instincts, for better or worse. something about this entire case has felt OFF from the jump, just like palmetto. molars grind, a hard breath exhaled through her nose, & she begins to lower the gun. slowly.
keeps a solid grip on it with one hand, blue eyes fixed on this TEENAGE BOY whose demeanor doesn’t exactly scream cold - blooded killer. free hand moves to her radio before the cavalry can bust in.
‘ false alarm. he’s not our guy. ’
all signs, in fact, point to this near - disaster being a prime example of WRONG PLACE, WRONG TIME. shoulders relax, gaze narrowing. ‘ so you wanna tell me what the hell you’re doing in here ? ’
two word starters. // accepting !
liquor burns the throat & dulls perception ; takes the edge off, as the old cliché goes. she doesn’t even particularly like whiskey, but nothing else cuts through this persistent tension she can’t name. now, not even that seems to work. she knocks back another sip to empty the glass, tells herself to get up & walk out despite the discrepancy between brain & limbs.
when did she grow so fucking dependent ? she’s supposed to have THICKER SKIN. here comes the grimace.
‘ sure. i can take a hint. ’ still, she hasn’t moved from the barstool. swivels a little — & sways — to look at him. ‘ what i CAN’T figure out is why you’ve suddenly got a stick up your ass. ’
four word starters. // accepting !