Chapter Text
Half asleep, Lucifer hears the noise through the baby monitor.
Opening his eyes, he glances at the large windows in their bedroom; still dark, still night. With a sigh he dials down the volume and gets out of the bed, careful not to disturb Chloe. Normally she's so attuned to her daughters and him, that Lucifer is a little surprised she hasn’t woken up already. It's a testament to how exhausted she is.
Grabbing a robe, he ties it tightly around his waist as he heads down the hall towards their daughter’s room.
She stands in her crib, awkwardly trying to lift her leg in an attempt to escape. When she sees Lucifer, she lowers it and reaches out with her hands, wordlessly asking to be picked up. Her eyes are red rimmed and puffy, and his heart breaks at the sight. This is one of the worst kinds of helplessness he's ever felt.
Rory has been unusually unhappy and weepy for the past week. Several visits to different doctors have led to nothing; she’s perfectly healthy, they all said, and insisted that it’s normal.
Lucifer disagreed even after Amenadiel said that she was fine. Just fine and nothing else. Apparently being cryptic really is in the job description.
Picking Rory up, he bounces her a little, hoping to get her to smile, but her eyebrows are drawn together, making her look completely miserable.
At first they thought it was her wings bothering her. Much like when the week of teething turned their otherwise happy and cheery child into a sobbing personification of misery that insisted on chewing on her father’s fingers. But Charlie, the only other half angel baby that gets to set the bar for what is considered ‘normal’ due to being the first half angel baby to ever exist, got his wings when he turned 2, and Rory is only 17 months old, so they concluded that it couldn't be it.
Whatever it is that’s making her cry, Lucifer hates it. And he hates that there’s nothing he can do about it.
She sniffs loudly, laying her head on his shoulder. He gently rubs her back, wishing he knew what was wrong. He’d do anything to fix it. If she wanted to, she could chew on all of his fingers with her tiny teeth; he'd gladly endure it for her.
“Can you tell me what’s bothering you?” he whispers into a mop of curly hair.
Instead of answering, she presses her face to his neck as a whimper escapes her lips. At least she’s not crying, but maybe this is worse. It’s only been a couple of hours since they managed to get her to fall asleep, now he has to do it again.
With Rory in his arms, he walks over to the dresser and opens the bottom drawer with his foot. From it he grabs a button down sweater that’s warm enough and most importantly big enough for her so that she can remain in her pajamas.
“How about you and I take a stroll on the beach?” Lucifer asks after he gets her into the sweater and rolls up the sleeves to free her hands. She looks a little like that baby Yoda character the urchin is obsessed with. It cost him a pretty penny to get out of dressing like that helmeted jedi or whoever he is for this Halloween. Why Lucifer had to pay to not do it is still something he’s trying to figure out. But then again, the urchin is her mother’s daughter, which means that she, despite her size, can be remarkably scary when she wants to be.
Rory sniffs again, rubbing her eye with a closed fist. She’s tired, and Lucifer hopes that moving around and the soothing sounds of the ocean can do the trick yet again.
He doesn’t bother with any jacket for himself, just slides his feet into a pair of loafers, and then heads down to the beach.
The sky is slowly getting lighter, and the full Moon is far above the horizon. He points at it, getting Rory to raise her head from his shoulder.
“Moon,” she says, but there is no usual spark in her brown eyes whenever she sees it. And then she turns away from it.
Feeling even more helpless, if that’s at all possible, he sets off in one direction. “It’s so bright,” he murmurs to Rory. “Do you know why it’s so bright? Because it reflects sunlight, almost like a mirror.” It earns him a look, but then her eyes fill with tears and she shivers.
Frowning, it’s warm enough even though it’s night, Lucifer presses his lips to Rory’s forehead, but she doesn’t feel hot. He touches her nose and it’s cold. Feeling anxious again, he looks back. Maybe he should call a doctor or just pester Amenadiel until he does something. His brother certainly can stand being reminded of how his son getting a simple cold turned him into a nervous wreck who stopped the flow of bloody time itself and couldn't figure out how to unstop it. And this is different. He just knows it is.
A tear rolls down Rory’s cheek, and her eyelids flutter, but he knows this expression and reaches into his robe pocket to give her a tissue. Silently she takes it, presses it to her nose and mouth, and for a second it makes Lucifer smile, she is his child after all.
Nothing happens.
She opens her eyes, squinting at him, and then frowns at the tissue in her hand.
Turning to walk back towards the house, Lucifer wishes he gave her his resistant-to-any-human-malady genes. She's so small, she shouldn't have to deal with it. Nor when she grows up, actually. His rational mind knows he can't possibly shield her from any and all pain, but it doesn't stop him from wishing he could.
Breathing in short gasps of air, Rory presses the tissue to her nose, only to then frown at it questioningly again. Lucifer feels a pang of sympathy for her, he remembers one time it took Chloe almost 10 minutes to sneeze, and when she finally did, she told him that it ‘ felt better than sex. ’ He couldn’t help feeling a little insulted.
Rory lifts up her chin, her eyes close again, and Lucifer thinks that this might be it, and then finally--
With a loud achoo, two small wings burst into existence behind Rory's back, beating the air with force, as if trying to take flight. It’s only his inhumanly fast reaction that allows him to keep his hold on her. The tissue drops to the ground, forgotten, as her terrified cries muffle the sounds of the ocean.
Cursing, Lucifer grips Rory tighter, grateful for the darkness and relative seclusion of their house, careful not to accidentally touch her wings; clearly she’s not in control. She only recently figured out how to properly use a fork, and now she’s got two new limbs to master. Shit.
“Rory, Rory ,” he says, trying to get her attention. With one arm he anchors her securely against him, as her wings send gusts of air right into his face, almost smacking him, and causing her small body to move with their force. He can't do bloody anything while she's in such a state. With the other hand he reaches behind her, to press against her spine, between the wings, but instead he makes contact with the long-ish feathers hanging down her back and she flinches violently, crying louder.
Shit shit shit.
This wasn’t supposed to happen so early, or go this badly, and Lucifer has no idea what to do. He’s read quite a few instruction manuals, but unfortunately the What To Do When Your Half Angel Baby Suddenly Gets Wings And It Scares Her Out Of Her Little Mind book hasn’t been written yet.
“Rory!” he tries again, raising his voice above her wailing, imploring her to listen to him, but she doesn’t. She’s crying and shaking like a leaf in his arms, trying to wiggle out of his grasp, as her small wings flail madly about her, completely out of control. The only other thing he can think of is rushing back and waking Chloe, hoping she'd find a way to calm their daughter down somehow, but... he’s Rory’s father , and his daughter needs him right now, so for the sake of everything that is holy, he will help her.
A little bit afraid and breathing in deeply, Lucifer adjusts his hold on her; he hasn’t done this in a very long time, and never once on a human. With one hand he cups the back of Rory’s neck, to keep her as still as possible, and then presses their foreheads together as he reaches for it. The forgotten, forsaken, energy. The power. The Will. Hoping, praying that it’ll work, that it’ll help. He finds it thrumming, burning inside him like a star, answering to his call, not suppressed anymore, but not completely embraced either.
He’s woefully out of practice, but Rory’s mind has no defenses when he gently touches it. There’s fear and confusion, way too big for her small mind to handle, hanging like dark clouds. The sudden presence she feels only frightens her more. Slowly, carefully, he pushes the clouds aside as he looks for her, for her soul, and when he finds it, he can’t help gasping sharply.
He’s touched divinity before, hell, he’s made of divinity, and even after millenia of going without, he won’t ever forget it; it’s not anything new. He remembers the touch of his parents’ light, his siblings’, so long ago, it feels like another life, before everything crumbled and soured, before they rejected him. He remembers the divinity of Heaven, and the traces of it in all living things. But this… this is something else.
A tremor runs down his spine. He’s felt divinity before, but it was always someone else’s; what he feels now is part of him, because the frightened little girl in his arms is part of him . And part of the woman he loves. Like a tiny spark, she shines brighter than any of the stars he created. The dazzling mix of her mum and dad, of Lucifer and Chloe, and for a second he can’t breathe. Having never really considered this in his rational mind, beyond a simple question of biology, to feel it, them, in his daughter’s light is overwhelming.
The best of both of them, and yet entirely her own. Not created to serve a function, or fulfill a purpose, but conceived and carried and born. A manifestation of her parents’ love. Welcomed into this world to just be. Whatever she chooses to be. Anything she chooses to be.
Gasping, Lucifer forces himself to focus on what he’s trying to do. Rory’s wings are still beating, still out of her control, and her cries threaten to rip his heart in two. Feeling her terror doesn’t help at all. Reaching out to his ancient powers, he breathes in deeply before wrapping her terrified mind and soul in a sense of peace, like the softest blanket. Her wings miss a beat, and he knows it’s working. He knows she recognizes him like this; he feels it.
Next one is love. The all encompassing, permeating every cell of his body, love he has for her. With his eyes still closed, he feels her place one hand on his cheek as the other grips his robe. The panic in her mind subsides with every second and her wings begin to relax. A small smile tugs on his lips.
Lucifer takes a moment; more blankets and more senses, he wraps her in safety and reassurance, serenity and warmth, like sunlight, until her breathing evens out and her wings no longer beat as if trying to take off. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”
In a few more seconds, Rory relaxes against his side, her wings now hang limp behind her back. "I know it was scary, but you're safe," he says softly, not breaking the link between them. "I won't let anything bad happen to you." Gently, Lucifer moves his hand until it rests on the small of her back, making sure to avoid touching the longer feathers. "Your wings made a surprise appearance a few months ahead of schedule and they scared you."
"Weens?" Rory asks, her voice small. "Like you?"
"Yes, just like me. You've seen my wings." As if answering him, Lucifer sees himself in Rory’s memories, through Rory's eyes , with his wings wide open. She’s sitting on his lap, watching his white wings as they gently close around her like a cocoon, and giggling when she touches a feather. He raises one wing and sees a smiling Chloe as she comes to sit next to him, now included in their game of not quite hide-and-seek. A wave of love, of their daughter's love for them, for him hits him like a freight train, and he almost chokes. "Yes," he whispers, hoarse.
Another memory surfaces, of him taking her on an impromptu flight, as she squeals in delight and joy, trusting him to keep her safe, completely and unconditionally. "I fly too?"
"Yes," he manages, the depth of her feelings is almost overwhelming, but there's something else he needs to do first. "I'm going to touch your wing now okay, sweetheart?"
She doesn't say anything aloud, but she doesn't need to, not right now. Infinitely gently, Lucifer presses his open palm to the soft downy feathers, just a tiny bit of pressure, feeling the answering jolt before she presses back into his hand.
"It’s just me. Do you want to try moving your wings now?"
With a little grunt, she presses the wing more firmly into his palm before relaxing it a little as she tries to figure it out. He feels it jerk slightly and then hesitantly, and wobbly, she's stretching them out to the sides.
"That's my clever girl," Lucifer whispers proudly, and the pleasure at being praised lights her up from the inside. Slowly, carefully, he untangles himself from her mind and soul. It's likely he'll never do it again, but he knows he will cherish the memories he's seen, and the unconditional love he's felt for as long as he lives.
With a soft sigh, she opens her eyes; there are still dried up tear tracks on her cheeks, but her eyes are clear and sparkling. She opens them wider as she notices her wings, now wrapped slightly around Lucifer's shoulders, as if in a hug. "Weens," Rory whispers, awe in her voice.
Breathing deeply, he takes a second to recenter himself. It really has been too long. He wonders if he can put the power back on a shelf, so to speak. He wonders if he should.
"I suppose they were a bit like teeth after all, weren't they?" Lucifer asks after a beat, tickling her side, relief finally setting in when she giggles, loud and carefree. "Let's go home, shall we?" She was already tired even before the wingcident, and now he feels drained as well; a good night’s sleep sounds like a fantastic idea.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, Rory rests her chin on his shoulder. "Show Mama?"
"Yes. She's gonna love this." And be relieved that their daughter is finally feeling better. Gently, he strokes her downy feathers as he walks them back to the house, every once in a while she presses her wings into his hand. Even with the Moon it's too dark to make out their color. He can't wait to see them in the light of day.
Over his shoulder, Rory reaches out to touch the tip of her wing. "Fluffy," she says, giggling to herself, then she looks up at him. "Like a birdie."
Lucifer glares, but it only makes her giggle more. "We’ve been over this. No bird jokes, thank you."
"Birdie," she sing-songs before she flaps her wings and wraps them around his shoulders again.
When he carefully pushes the door of the bedroom open, Rory is dozing in his arms. As if sensing their presence, Chloe sits on the bed, reaching to turn on the lamp. Her eyes grow comically wide and her mouth opens as she takes in the wings on their daughter's back, which now hang limp. Lucifer grins.
"Uh, well, I guess there's that," she whispers, succinctly summarizing what happened.
"Mama?" Sleepily, Rory lifts up her head, turning and squinting at the light. Chuckling, Lucifer lowers her to the bed, watching as she crawls into Chloe's open arms. "I have weens, Mama," she says, cuddling close. "Like Daddy and birdies."
He sighs. It's going to be a battle. And judging by Chloe's grin, she's definitely not going to be of any help.
"Yes, baby," she coos. "Such pretty wings. May I touch them?" She waits until Rory nods, then touches the top of her wing, stroking it gently. "So soft too." The little girl makes a contented little sound, and tired, snuggling her mother, and no longer bothered by anything, she goes out like a light.
Sliding into bed on Chloe's other side, Lucifer props his head on his elbow as he looks at the two of them.
"So it was the wings?" Chloe whispers, now running her fingers though Rory’s curls. "They're a bit early." There's concern in her voice, but the truth is their daughter is the second half angel child to exist in the entire universe, and now Lucifer is uncomfortably aware that this will not be the last time they lose sleep over her health and well-being. But then maybe it's just part of being a parent.
"She's okay now though," he whispers back, shoving these unpleasant thoughts aside, and presses a kiss to Chloe's jaw. "She sneezed them into existence."
Chloe snorts, turning her head to better look at him. "She's so gonna hate that when she gets older."
He smiles. "Yes, I imagine she will."
She studies him for a long moment, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Something’s different?” she asks hesitantly, and Lucifer has to bite back a laugh; of course she noticed.
“I’ll tell you in the morning,” he says softly, brushing the hair away from her face.
"All right. Uh, did she react okay? When it happened? Suddenly gaining two extra limbs must have been scary for her.”
He looks at the sleeping child in Chloe’s arms, thinking of Rory’s terror as she couldn't make sense of what was happening to her, and he's glad she probably won't remember it. "She, uh, panicked a little bit," he says vaguely, not wanting to worry Chloe, but also not wanting to keep the truth from her.
She knows him too well for that to happen. With one hand, she caresses his stubble, her touch is familiar and soothing, and he leans into it. "I'm so glad you were there for her," she whispers. "I wouldn't know what to do."
"Oh, you'd figure it out," he tries to deflect, fully aware of what he's doing, but she shakes her head, not letting him get away with it.
"You know what I mean, Lucifer." Softly, Chloe pulls on the back of his neck, until he leans down and their lips touch. “Thank you,” she whispers against his lips. “For being here. For us, this, everything.”
For the second time in less than an hour, he finds it hard to breathe. There’s only love and gratitude shining back at him in her eyes, and he swallows hard.
Reaching behind him, Lucifer turns off the lamp, then wraps his arm around both Chloe and Rory. “Always,” he whispers, his lips pressed against her shoulder. Until the end of time.