Lucifer had been listening, so the moment Stephen woke up, he knew. The small shift in breathing, the slow exhale, the way the doctor had remained quiet, clearly assessing before making a move.
Ah, so he was the observant type.
Lucifer smirked to himself as he plated the last of breakfast—simple but perfectly prepared eggs, toast, fresh fruit, and, of course, coffee. The scent filled the space, and just as he set a cup on the table, the bedroom door creaked open.
Lucifer didn't even turn, he already knew Stephen was near, already changed into the clothes he came in, though wearing the outer robe Lucifer had left him. It was a bit chilly, after all.
"Good morning, Doctor," he said smoothly, glancing up only briefly before continuing to prepare Maze's plate.
Behind him, Maze, already seated at the table, barely spared Stephen a glance, more interested in food than the newcomer.
Lucifer smiled.
"Come, sit," he gestured to the seat across from her. "Breakfast is served."
Stephen Strange, ever the skeptic, remained in the doorway for a beat too long, gaze flicking between them.
Then, with a slow, exhausted sigh, he stepped forward.
His eyes landed on Maze, taking in the way she tore into her toast with zero concern for anyone's opinion.
Lucifer, sensing his hesitation, smirked.
"Doctor, meet Mazikeen," he said, gesturing toward her. "Maze, this is—"
"Stephen Strange," Maze finished, chewing. "Yeah, yeah. Heard you."
She waved lazily, still far more interested in her breakfast than in greeting him properly.
Stephen arched a brow. "Charmed, I'm sure."
Lucifer grinned, watching them with amusement as Stephen turned back to him, crossing his arms, expression flat.
"You know," he said dryly, "I just realized something."
Lucifer tilted his head. "Oh?"
Stephen narrowed his eyes. "I don't know your name."
Lucifer blinked before a slow, wicked smile spread across his face.
"Oh, but that won't do," he said smoothly, setting his coffee down before turning toward Stephen fully.
With a flourish, he gestured to himself.
"Lucifer Morningstar," he announced, golden eyes glinting with delight. "At your service."
Stephen stared at him.
Maze, chewing her toast, paused mid-bite, and squinted at Lucifer.
"No titles?" she muttered, clearly unimpressed.
Lucifer shot her a look and Maze shrugged, taking another bite.
Stephen, meanwhile, just blinked before huffing out a sharp breath, shaking his head.
"Right. Of course," he muttered, running a hand down his face. "And I'm Merlin. Nice to meet you."
Lucifer grinned.
"Oh, I do like you."
Stephen scowled when Lucifer didn't give other name. "You're kidding."
Lucifer reached into his pocket, pulled out his perfectly crafted ID, and slid it across the table. Stephen glanced at it, then froze because there it was: Lucifer Morningstar.
His eyes twitched slightly, because if that wasn't an unfortunate name, then he didn't know what was.
Lucifer, watching his reaction, leaned in slightly, smirking.
"Believe me now, Doctor?"
Stephen let out a long, slow sigh, picking up his coffee.
"I hate that I have to," he muttered, taking a sip.
Lucifer laughed, delighted.
Maze just grabbed more toast.
And breakfast continued.
.
Stephen took another slow sip of coffee.
It was annoyingly good.
He hated that.
Lucifer Morningstar, self-proclaimed kidnapper, world-class chef, and aggravatingly smug bastard, was far too pleased with himself for someone who had stolen Stephen away in the middle of the night.
And now, as he sat across from him, casually sipping his coffee, golden eyes glinting with amusement, Stephen knew one thing for certain—This man enjoyed getting under people's skin.
Which meant Stephen wasn't going to let him win. So, he set his mug down, fixed Lucifer with a flat look, and got straight to the point.
"Alright," he said. "Enough games. Who are you really?"
Lucifer arched a brow, looking far too pleased with the question.
"Darling, I just told you," he purred. "Lucifer Morningstar. Really, I must say, I'm a little hurt you don't believe me."
Stephen's jaw tightened.
"And what exactly do you do, Mr. Morningstar?"
Lucifer sighed, setting his cup down with a delicate clink.
"I deal with people," he said smoothly, fingers steepling. "I make them confront their worst regrets, come to terms with their choices, and ensure they understand the consequences of their actions. I even worked with the LAPD for a time."
Stephen raised an eyebrow.
"That sounds suspiciously like a therapist. Or a profiler," he said dryly.
Lucifer's lips curled. "I suppose you could say that."
"But not exactly?"
Lucifer's smile widened.
"What do you even specialize?"
Lucifer exhaled dramatically, as if the question itself was far too mundane for him.
"Oh, all sorts of things," he mused. "Human behavior, mostly. I deal in accountability. Consequence."
Stephen's brows lifted slightly, but he remained silent, watching.
Lucifer continued, gesturing lazily with one hand.
"You see, Doctor," he said smoothly, "there are those who make choices—choices that lead them down paths they may not fully understand. And when the time comes, when their actions catch up to them, when the weight of their own decisions bears down upon them…"
He smiled, slow and knowing.
"I'm the one they meet at the end of the road."
Stephen's eyes flickered, his mind turning that over, before he looked around the obscenely lavish penthouse—the sleek furniture, the towering bookshelves, the bar that looked better stocked than most high-end hotels.
Then, finally, he turned back to Lucifer with an unimpressed look.
"Yeah," he deadpanned. "I really don't think this is the kind of money a therapist—or even a criminal profiler—makes."
Lucifer shrugged elegantly.
"I come from an old family," he said lightly, taking another sip of his drink.
Stephen's eyes narrowed slightly. "How old?"
Lucifer's smirk deepened, his voice dropping into something silky smooth.
"Older than Time, darling."
Stephen scoffed. Of course, that wasn't an answer. And of course, Lucifer looked delighted by his own theatrics.
Stephen inhaled sharply through his nose, tilting his head. "And this old family of yours—what exactly do they do?"
Lucifer's golden gaze flickered with mischief.
"We've been in charge of overseeing certain… affairs for a very long time," he said smoothly, waving a hand vaguely. "It's a generational responsibility, you see."
Stephen stared at him while Lucifer smiled back. He was telling the truth, but not all of it. And somehow, that was even more frustrating.
"Affairs? What kind of affairs?"
Lucifer smirked. "Let's just say it's on a larger scale than anything you could picture."
Maze, who had been too focused on her food to care, finally snorted.
"He's embellishing again," she muttered.
Lucifer sighed theatrically, placing a hand on his chest.
"I prefer the term artful omission."
Stephen scowled, rubbing his temples. "Right. Of course. And you," he glanced at Maze, "what exactly do you do?"
Maze grinned, sharp and wolfish.
"Oh, I handle the messes," she said simply, sipping her coffee.
Stephen gave her a flat look. "Messes."
Lucifer nodded approvingly. "Oh yes, she's quite good at it."
Maze smirked. "Let's just say I'm in the business of making people feel the weight of their choices."
Stephen's fingers drummed against the table. This was nonsense, and he was too tired for nonsense. But at the same time… Lucifer was not lying. Stephen could feel it, and that made it worse.
He sighed sharply, gripping his coffee.
"You're both insane," he muttered.
Lucifer smirked, golden eyes gleaming.
"Oh, Doctor," he purred. "We're just very good at what we do."
Stephen exhaled sharply, setting his coffee down with finality.
"Alright," he muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. "Enough of this cryptic act."
Lucifer raised a perfectly groomed brow, looking thoroughly amused.
"Act?" he echoed, tilting his head. "Doctor, I assure you, I'm being entirely truthful."
Stephen let out a dry, humorless chuckle, shaking his head.
"Yeah? Because to me, it sounds like a bunch of polished, well-practiced bullshit."
Maze, still working on her breakfast, snorted in amusement.
Lucifer, for his part, smirked, pleased by Stephen's irritation.
"My, my," he mused. "Such strong feelings so early in the morning."
Stephen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"You kidnapped me, fed me, spent an entire breakfast dancing around any real explanation about what you do," he listed off, his frustration clear. "And you expect me to just go along with it?"
Lucifer smirked. "You did enjoy the food, though."
Stephen glared.
Maze grinned to herself, watching the exchange with the air of someone who lived for this kind of chaos.
Stephen finally let out a short breath, shaking his head.
"You know what?" he muttered, standing up. "I don't care."
Lucifer's smirk faltered, just a fraction.
Stephen stretched his shoulders, rolling out the lingering ache from the night before.
"I have work to get ready for," he said, rubbing his temple. "I don't have time for—whatever this is."
Lucifer watched him, golden eyes calculating, flickering with something else. Something unspoken.
He didn't want Stephen to leave and Maze noticed. She knew that look. That rare flicker of something genuine in Lucifer's gaze which meant it was time to kill the moment.
"We got a flight to catch, anyway," she said casually, stretching her arms above her head.
Lucifer blinked, eyes snapping at her.
Maze arched a brow.
"You do remember, don't you?" she asked dryly. "Mexico? The hammer?"
Lucifer's lips pressed together in a tight line.
"...Ah. Yes. That."
Stephen paused mid-step, glancing between them.
"Mexico?" he asked.
Lucifer waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing important."
Maze rolled her eyes. "God, you're bad at this."
Lucifer sighed, rubbing his temple.
"Fine," he muttered, choosing to be completely honest for once. "Yes, we're making a small trip. Something about a lost alien prince and a hammer."
Stephen blinked.
Then, deciding he really didn't want to ask, he shook his head.
"Right," he muttered. "Well. You two enjoy that."
Lucifer watched as Stephen grabbed his coat, making his way toward the door.
There was a brief, strange sensation twisting inside of him—something that felt annoyingly close to disappointment.
Maze knew that look, too. And before he could make a move to stall Stephen any longer, she kicked his chair.
"Time to go, boss."
Lucifer groaned.
Stephen, utterly done with both of them, simply opened the door and left.
Lucifer sighed dramatically, standing up.
"Well," he muttered, adjusting his cuffs, "that was rude of him."
Maze smirked. "You're just mad you didn't get him to stay."
Lucifer scoffed, making his way toward the bar to pour himself a drink.
"Ridiculous," he muttered. "I simply appreciate good company."
Maze grinned.
"Oh, sure," she mused. "Keep telling yourself that."
Lucifer huffed, taking a slow sip of his drink.
Yes, yes. Fine.
Mexico first.
But after that?
He had a certain doctor to visit again.