In the sparkling light of the Santa Monica Pier, Chloe glows, and Lucifer thinks he can see stars in her eyes, in her hair. They’re at one of those stupidly rigged carnival games, but his Detective is persistent, and he likes the look on her face when she’s focused on something. She’s also damn good, and when she turns to him with a grin and says, “That’s how the Decker women do it,” he can’t stop the words from spilling out of his mouth.
“Marry me,” he says.
Chloe freezes, and he feels like time does too, feels like this moment is suspended and for just a fraction of a second, he wonders if this is his brother’s work. He can feel the curious eyes of the people around him watching them, waiting, already formulating how they’ll share this moment they witnessed with their friends even as they pretend like they aren’t listening in.
He hadn’t meant to do it like this, not in a public place, not yet, maybe not at all because the last time she’d been engaged, it hadn’t ended well, the last time she’d been married, it hadn’t ended well. And then the world snaps into motion again, the discordant sounds of the pier flood his ears, and Chloe blinks.
“Okay,” she replies.
He almost doesn’t catch the word falling from her lips. But he does, grabs hold of it before it clatters to the wood and slips between the slats of the deck. ”Okay?” He’s terrified that his voice pitches up but he isn’t really thinking straight. She has always caught him off guard.
Her palm is warm against his cheek when she reaches for him, slides her fingers across the line of his stubble. “Let’s get married.” Lucifer gapes at her and she tilts her head, worrying her lip between her teeth. She slides off her stool and presses a soft kiss against his lips. “Did you need me to say something else?”
Around them, he can hear the soft chatter; the murmurs of congratulations that he will later be grateful weren’t anything louder. The last thing he wants is attention from people who aren’t her. The small crowd seems to know this is a private moment, even if there’s a giant stuffed shark now waiting for Chloe to claim it. But she only looks at him, his face framed in her hands, and she waits for him to speak. “No, I—” His gaze flicks to her mouth and back up to her eyes. Her face is so earnest, her eyes just on the edge of joy as she waits for his cue to let this moment settle into something real. “Let’s do it.”
Then she beams, a smile that he has seen so few times that he tucks it away in his heart for later. She kisses him again and he can feel the first star launch from its perch. Later, she will tell him that it was perfect, that she didn’t want the same big to do. The word non-traditional flashes through his mind and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her he’d imagined it over dinner, after a glass of wine, and with candlelight in her eyes. Later, he will surprise her with a ring when they’re curled on the couch one night because he thinks she should have one, and it matches the ring he has never taken off. But right now, he knows the stars are flashing above them and her lips are soft against his and Chloe Decker wants to be his wife.