Maze watched Lucifer pour himself a drink, his movements smooth and deliberate, but she knew him too well.
He was irritated.
Not at her.
Not at their upcoming trip.
No.
This was about the doctor.
She smirked, leaning back in her chair, arms crossed.
"So," she said casually, "you gonna tell me what that was?"
Lucifer didn't look at her, swirling his drink with a slow roll of his wrist.
"What what was, darling?" he mused, entirely too nonchalant.
Maze scoffed. "Don't pull that bullshit with me."
Lucifer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"You're going to be insufferable about this, aren't you?"
"Oh, definitely."
Lucifer sighed dramatically, finishing his drink in one slow sip before setting the glass down with too much care.
Maze smirked.
Bingo.
"Come on, boss," she pressed, "you've been acting weird since we got here, and now you're all…" she waved a hand vaguely, "mopey about this doctor leaving."
Lucifer scoffed. "Mopey?"
"Yeah. Mopey. Pining. Longing, even."
Lucifer shot her a flat look.
"Darling, I do not—"
"You so do."
Lucifer exhaled through his nose, his annoyance mounting. But Maze didn't let up. Instead, she leaned forward, her smirk widening.
"I think we stumbled on something when we came here," she mused, eyes glinting with curiosity. "And I know you felt it, too."
Lucifer stiffened just for a second, but Maze caught it.
Her grin grew sharper.
"Gotcha."
Lucifer groaned, rubbing his temple. "You are the worst."
"And you're avoiding the question."
Lucifer exhaled a slow, measured breath, his usual ease faltering as he paced toward the window.
The city stretched before him—a tapestry of light and movement, pulsing with the rhythm of mortal life. A song of chaos, of fleeting joys, of moments that burned bright before vanishing into nothing.
He should have found it comforting.
But tonight, it felt… hollow.
Like something was missing.
Like something had been missing for a long time.
Behind him, Maze watched—curious, relentless.
Lucifer hated this.
Hated when she pushed him like this, dug into him with all the sharp edges of her stubbornness.
But Maze, much like time and regret, was an unyielding force.
So, like pulling teeth, he gave in.
"...It's like I misplaced something," he admitted, voice quieter now, more introspective. "Something I didn't even realize I'd lost."
Maze tilted her head.
Lucifer's golden eyes swept over the skyline, but he wasn't really seeing it.
And then, his voice dropped into something softer, deeper.
"And then I see him," he murmured, "and it's like hearing an old song I almost remember."
Maze raised a brow. "That's annoyingly poetic."
Lucifer shot her a dry, unimpressed glare.
She smirked—but said nothing more.
Lucifer hesitated. Carefully selecting his words, tasting them before setting them free.
"He makes me feel something," he confessed. "Not just curiosity. Not just the usual infatuation."
His fingers twitched at his sides, an unconscious movement—one that betrayed more than he wanted.
"It's as if his jagged edges fit against mine," he continued, voice dipping lower, "like two broken things that somehow… align."
His throat felt tight.
"It doesn't make sense," he admitted, almost to himself.
Maze studied him, and for once—her amusement dimmed.
Because Lucifer didn't talk like this. Not ever. The most similar would be—
Ah.
She leaned back, crossing her arms.
"...Like the Detective?" she asked, watching his reaction.
Lucifer grimaced. He hated this.
Not the conversation itself—he'd endured centuries of Maze's interrogations.
No, he hated the way this conversation was pulling something raw out of him, forcing him to acknowledge something he wasn't ready to name.
Lucifer sighed, rubbing his fingers over his temple before dragging his hand through his hair. He turned, leaning against the window, his golden eyes scanning the city below—watching as cars moved like veins, pulsing with human life.
"No," he said quickly, before sighing. "Not quite. With her, I was vulnerable." He flexed his fingers, testing them, remembering how they once trembled under Chloe's touch.
Maze's smirk dimmed slightly and Lucifer continued, voice measured.
"It was unnatural, though," he mused. "Like I was forced into that weakness. My body betraying me, my very essence bending to something outside of me."
He scoffed, shaking his head.
"It was humbling, certainly," he admitted. "But it was not my choice."
Maze studied him carefully as Lucifer's expression shifted. Something softer, warmer, but no less intense.
"But with Stephen…" he trailed off, his gaze distant, almost searching.
"It's not weakness I feel," he admitted, almost as if he was confessing it to himself.
Maze didn't interrupt.
"It's… power," he murmured after a while, because only that word felt right. And yet—It wasn't power in the way he knew it. Not power over someone. Not dominion. Not control.
No—this was different.
He felt stronger around Stephen. Like he was more himself in his presence. Unrestrained.
And for the first time in so long, he wanted to understand someone.
Not to manipulate, not to persuade, not to charm.
But to know them.
To know Stephen.
To see what lay beneath that arrogance, beneath the walls, beneath the sarcasm and exhaustion.
He wanted to pull him apart, piece by piece, and understand what made him who he was. He wanted to—
Lucifer swallowed.
Maze was grinning.
"Well," she drawled, clearly enjoying this far too much. "That's disgusting."
Lucifer groaned, rubbing his face. "I hate you."
Maze leaned back, arms crossed, smirking.
"And I love watching you squirm."
Lucifer sighed deeply, letting his head thunk against the window.
Because Maze?
She was never letting this go. And he cannot blame her, either. Because Lucifer had always understood desire.
The pull, the craving, the hunger—he'd lived among mortals long enough to indulge in every variation of it. He had mastered its language, played it like a well-tuned instrument, and left countless hearts burning in the wake of his amusement.
Desire was simple.
This?
This was not.
It unsettled him, this feeling—a quiet, creeping thing that curled inside his chest and refused to be dismissed.
He didn't even know Stephen Strange.
Not really.
Peering into his soul didn't count.
A soul, after all, was not the same as a person.
Lucifer could read his wounds, his fears, his unyielding arrogance wrapped around the fragile threads of duty and doubt. He could see the weight on his shoulders, the way he carried himself with that exasperating mixture of control and recklessness.
But he didn't know him.
Didn't know his favorite color or the names of his family members—if he was close to them, if he had lost someone.
He didn't know what made him laugh, what songs lingered in his mind when he was alone, what irritated him beyond reason, or how he liked his coffee, or what small, meaningless things made his bad days a little better.
And yet, Lucifer wanted to know.
Worse than that—He wanted Stephen to want to know him, too.
It was unnerving.
Lucifer was used to being the enigma, the unknowable force that others stumbled into, fascinated but always kept at arm's length.
That was how it worked.
That was how he had made it work.
But now, for the first time in so long, he wanted someone to look at him and see more than the legend.
He wanted interest and curiosity.
Wanted Stephen Strange to ask, because the idea of being an afterthought to someone who had already begun to unravel him—
That, more than anything, was what terrified him.
And the Devil did not do fear.
.
Maze was having the time of her life until she saw how thoughtful and melancholic Lucifer was becoming.
Lucifer squirming?
Lucifer avoiding her gaze like a guilty schoolboy caught in a lie?
That was delicious. This, though? Not so much.
"Why'd you lie to him, then?" she asked, her smirk losing some of her predatory sharpness.
Lucifer, who had been perfectly fine sulking against the window, snapped his gaze to her, indignant. The depressive mood he was in vanishing in a second.
"I did not lie," he huffed. "I do not lie."
Maze rolled her eyes. "Oh, please."
Lucifer gestured vaguely, looking almost offended.
"I merely… omitted certain truths," he said, adjusting his cuff. "Which, I'll remind you, is not the same thing as lying."
Maze scoffed. "Uh-huh. And why do that? What, were you afraid?"
Lucifer froze just for a microsecond, but it was enough.
Maze's grin widened.
"Oh my God," she drawled, leaning forward, elbows on the table. "You were afraid."
Lucifer scowled, shifting slightly. "Don't be ridiculous."
But Maze?
She was like a shark that smelled blood.
"You totally were," she continued, eyes glinting with amusement. "Big bad Devil, suddenly nervous around a mortal? That's hilarious."
Lucifer huffed, grabbing his drink again, sipping it like it was his only lifeline.
"I was simply being… practical," he muttered.
Maze arched a brow. "Practical?"
Lucifer sighed heavily, rubbing his temple.
"He barely believed my name, Maze," he muttered. "If I'd told him the whole truth, he'd have laughed in my face and stormed out before I had the chance to—"
He cut himself off.
Maze pounced.
"Chance to what?" she pressed, leaning in.
Lucifer's jaw tightened, but he didn't answer.
Maze grinned.
"Chance to keep him around?" she teased. "Chance to make him like you?"
Lucifer glared. "Must you phrase it like that?"
"Must you make it this easy?"
Lucifer groaned, tossing his head back against the window dramatically, and Maze was absolutely loving it, of course. Now that the sad feeling was gone, she could enjoy Lucifer's suffering.
Lucifer was so done with this conversation, even if Maze looked like she had no intention of letting him off the hook.
Which meant he needed to change the subject. Immediately.
"Well," he sighed, pushing away from the window, rolling his shoulders. "As fun as this little interrogation has been, shouldn't we be focusing on more pressing matters?"
Maze arched a skeptical brow. "Oh? Like what?"
Lucifer smirked. "Like Mexico."
Maze scoffed, unimpressed.
"Uh-huh," she drawled, clearly not fooled. "So, let me get this straight—suddenly you're eager to go meet a prince you don't even know, just so you don't have to talk about your feelings?"
Lucifer groaned.
"Feelings are overrated, Maze," he muttered.
Maze grinned. "Tell that to your doctor."
Lucifer glared.
Maze just kept grinning.
She was about to dig in deeper when she saw it—
Lucifer, mid-scoff, suddenly turned his head slightly, golden eyes narrowing toward something unseen.
His expression shifted.
Frowning.
Focused.
Maze immediately caught on.
Her teasing died instantly.
"What?" she asked, serious now.
Lucifer's gaze stayed locked on something only he could feel.
"Another portal just opened," he murmured.
Maze straightened. "Where?"
Lucifer's frown deepened.
"Mexico."
She rolled her shoulders, already itching for a fight.
"More Asgardians?" she asked.
Lucifer shook his head.
"I'm unsure," he muttered, golden eyes flickering. "Four aliens. And whoever dumped them here didn't care much for subtlety."
Maze grinned.
"Well, finally," she said, already reaching for her weapons. "And you were worried this trip would be boring."
Lucifer sighed, running a hand down his face.
"Yes, lucky me."
Maze smirked.
And just like that—
The teasing was over.
And the hunt had begun.
.
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I'm alive!!!
And tired af
For a couple of weeks I've been doing late shifts and those are tiring. Also, it's summer here and I hate this season because I'm more sweat than person. Luckily, I'll have a vacation in two weeks, so let's hope I've better shifts after that T.T
(Most of my close family is going to return to our Mother Country so I've been helping for the preparations that didn't help with the busy period. My mom is going in a couple days and two of my sisters will go in a couple of weeks)
Anyway, sorry.
Two chapters for u
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Also, if you want to support me and read chapters ahead, go to my p@treon: JorieDS