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It had been innocent enough. The Detective had been called in to work late on sorting through some case files at the precinct, and her normal sitter hadn’t been available to watch Trixie. “Okay, look. You’re the last person I wanted to call for this, but I have no one else to do it,” she had sighed on the other end of the phone. “It’s only for a few hours. Do you think you can handle it?”
He had smiled, swallowing his witty reply in favor of a more concise one. “Of course, Detective. I ruled Hell for millennia, how difficult can one mortal child be?” He could imagine the exasperated eye roll that was occurring at that very moment.
“The directions are on the counter, and if you need anything important that’s not on the list, you can text me. Bedtime is at 8:30 sharp, and make sure she gets her homework done before then. I’ll be back around 10.” He had paused, waiting for any more information. “Did you get all that?”
“Rest assured, I will try to minimize the property damage that may occur as a result of my interim babysitting duties, Detective.”
“If there’s any property damage when I get home, it’s going to be the end of you, Lucifer.”
“Is that a promise?”
As expected, the child had flung herself at him the moment he walked through the front door with a ghastly shriek. Several seconds of horror later, he had managed to detach himself from the tiny vice grip by patting Trixie on the head. “Hello, tiny human.”
She regarded him for a moment with her head cocked to the side, and Lucifer began to wonder if she really was part dog. “Are you here to help me with my science project?”
Picking up the list from the counter, he regarded it with passive interest. “Well, not exactly. Your mother couldn’t get your normal sitter, so it appears that I am to watch you for a few hours until she gets home.” Another shriek was heard and suddenly Trixie was wrapped around his shins again. It was less shocking the second time, for whatever reason, and he sighed deeply and continued to focus on the handwritten list the Detective had left on the counter.
Probably best to take these things one at a time for simplicity’s sake. “Right, first order of business,” he muttered.
Trixie usually eats dinner at about 6, so you’re going to want to feed her soon after you get there. No chocolate cake for the main meal. She will try to convince you otherwise.
He smirked as he noticed the boldly underlined statement. “Right, then. What do you small humans normally like to eat?” Trixie bounded up onto a chair at the kitchen island and began to swivel it around in circles. She thought for a moment, face scrunched up in contemplation.
“Chocolate cake?” she suggested mischievously. “Mom lets me have some whenever I get home.” Lucifer crossed his arms, and she appeared to get the message. “Well, I guess I usually have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich after school,” she started. She paused a moment and looked at Lucifer quizzically. “You do know how to make one of those, right? I can help you if you don’t.”
He laughed and began to rummage through the refrigerator for the supplies. “As it happens, I make one of the best PB&J sandwiches around.” He set the jar of peanut butter on the counter. “However, you could help me by getting the bread and a plate to put this on.” Finding the grape jelly, he frowned upon realizing that it was the squeezable kind in the tube. He turned to his small kitchen aid. “Don’t you have any natural preserves?”
Trixie shrugged, meriting an exasperated sigh from the Devil. “Right. I suppose we’ll have to make due with… whatever this is, then,” he mumbled, tilting the tube to inspect the thick purple concoction inside. Turning back to the work station they’d assembled, he began coating the bread with a smooth layer of peanut butter. Trixie was already eating the end piece out of the package containing the rest of the sourdough, and he tapped the knife down on the end of the bag to swat her away. “Oh, you can’t possibly be hungry enough to eat that,” he scowled. “That’s not even the good part of the loaf.”
She laughed, mouth now full of bread crumbs, as he continued to add the condiments to the sandwich. He picked up the tube of jelly and began to shake it vigorously, not realizing that the lid was slightly ajar, and a large dollop of purple goop shot forth onto the front of his white dress shirt. “Oh, bloody hell,” he muttered, placing his hands on his hips in a display of total frustration. “This was Armani, too.”
He grumbled through the rest of the sandwich, finally cutting it into two triangles and sliding the plate over to Trixie, who immediately began to devour it. “Now slow down, little beast. You’re going to give yourself a stomachache.”
He found the glasses in the cupboard next to the refrigerator and poured some milk into one for her. He contemplated putting something a bit stronger in his glass, before realizing that likely Beatrice would not know where her mother’s alcohol was and that in all likelihood it would not be potent enough to make this event any more bearable. Although considering the lack of destruction to this point, it could be going worse. He rolled his eyes and scanned the to-do list for the second item.
Her class project on the planets is due tomorrow and she’s going to need help putting the diorama together. All the supplies you should need are on the living room table. She has the instructions. Super glue is in the drawer to the right of the sink.
“So you said you needed help with your science project, Beatrice?” Glancing over at the small coffee table, he could see a repurposed black shoebox (once containing a pair of boots that probably looked very nice on the detective), a bag filled with various sizes of Styrofoam balls, a set of Crayola washable paints, some glitter, and the superglue.
“What exactly do you have to do for this, then?”
After fishing in her backpack, she produced a sheet of paper that looked as though it had been in the trenches during the Vietnam conflict. Taking the crumpled rubric with a grimace, he skimmed it briskly. “Right, so we just have to hang some foam balls in there, then?”
Trixie looked at him as though he had just spoken in an alien language. “No, Lucifer! We have to make it look pretty so I can get the best grade in the class.” Looking at the requirements once more, he checked his watch, the elegant hands indicating that it was shortly after 7:00. Realizing that there was at least three more hours of torture ahead, he debated drinking down some of the paint to test if it would really be non-toxic.
About an hour later, the living room began to resemble a blast zone more than a home. Paper pieces and Styrofoam shavings littered the carpet, and he was fairly sure the air was mostly composed of particles of silver glitter – which was certainly not due to the fact that they’d begun to have a glitter war halfway through the project’s completion. On top of it all, he had managed to seal two of his fingers together with super glue while adhering Neptune to the top of the box.
Thinking back, Lucifer wasn’t sure exactly how he had gotten himself into this mess. It had all been very innocuous, really- offering to stand in as a babysitter for the Detective when she needed his help. Glancing down, he looked as though he had been attacked by a rainbow and still had a streak of grape jelly on his very expensive dress shirt. But perhaps the most shocking thing of all is that sitting across the table from him, giggling like a mad scientist, was his worst nightmare, Beatrice Decker – and he was beginning to tolerate her company.
All said and done, the pair had managed to create a fairly decent model of the solar system, one he could dare say he was proud of. “Well now, I’ve never been much of an artist myself but I believe we make quite the capable team,” he smiled. Looking down at his companion, he noticed she was beginning to yawn. He was surprised when the digital clock on the wall displayed boldly that the time was 8:15, and he checked his watch to be certain.
“Perhaps you’d better get ready for bed, little Decker. Your mother would have a fit if you were awake past your bedtime. Now go on, I’ll clean up the mess we’ve made out here,” he said gently. Trixie nodded and padded into her room to change into her pajamas. As Lucifer walked by her room to deposit the vacuum back in the broom closet, he noticed the sign on her door, adorned with the child’s handwriting.
No boys allowed , Except for lucifer
and Dad
He smiled, simultaneously storing the memory to use against Dan later. At 8:30 precisely, he knocked softly on Trixie’s door to find her just climbing into bed. “Well then, I suppose this is good night, small one,” he muttered. “Do you leave the door open or closed?”
“Closed,” she answered. “But Lucifer?”
“Yes, Beatrice?”
“Can you read me a bedtime story?”
When Chloe walked in a few hours later, she found the place spotless with the dishes clean and dried in a neat stack next to the sink, and an impressive-looking planetary model on the kitchen counter next to Trixie’s backpack. The rest of the house was quiet, Lucifer was nowhere to be found, and she was seriously beginning to get irritated with his lack of responsibility. She debated firing off an angry text message to him as she opened the door to check on Trixie.
Instead, she found her daughter curled up in a tiny ball in Lucifer’s arms, the familiar bedtime book with the panda bear laying open and unfinished nearby. She shook her head in disbelief of what she was seeing, failing to suppress the smile that crept onto her face.
The light from the doorway cast a line of light that illuminated her partner’s face, not yet asleep but drowsy, and he looked up at her a bit sheepishly when he realized that she was home. Moving carefully so as not to wake Trixie, he climbed out of bed and strode quietly over to the door where he shut it soundlessly behind him.
Chloe wished she could capture the look on his face at that moment. “I thought you didn’t like kids,” she teased.
“Yes, well it does appear that there are certain exceptions to my rule, Detective. I found it wasn’t nearly as much of a punishment as I thought it would be,” he shrugged.
“Maybe I should have you babysit more often then.”
He laughed as they walked towards the front door, fluidly grabbing his keys off of the kitchen island in one progressive motion. “I believe I wouldn’t be wholly opposed to the idea,” he replied. “Well, as long as it’s just for your spawn.” He placed his hand on the handle of the door and began to turn it before remembering his manners. “Good night, Detective,” he offered. With that he slipped out of the house, crossing over into the darkness just beyond the porch light.
The roar of Lucifer’s engine startled Chloe out of her musings, and she offered a small wave as he eased the Corvette down the road and out of sight. Closing the door behind her and locking it soundly, she crossed over to the kitchen island to examine the pair’s handiwork on Trixie’s project. Sitting next to it were the handwritten instructions she had left for Lucifer, and she noticed some additional text had been added at the bottom in blue ink. She chuckled as she read the neatly printed script.
I did not have a truly awful time as I expected, Detective, and thank you for trusting me to watch Beatrice while you were out. Talk to you soon.
Lucifer
P.S.: Please text me when you find out how to get said ‘super’ glue off of one’s fingers.
P.P.S.: I am convinced that somehow squeezable grape jelly came from Hell itself. And I should know.