ii.

It was past midnight when Emma's phone buzzed on the bedside table, as she and Killian were drowsing in comfortable stupor with her head on his chest. They were mostly asleep, so she snorted, rolled off him, and fumbled for it, surprised to see the unfamiliar 310 area code on the caller ID. She blanked on who it could possibly be, until she remembered. Gave her number to Chloe before they left L.A, told her to keep in touch. She grimaced, swiped her hair out of her face, and said groggily, "Hello?"

"Is it – oh god. I forgot about the time difference. You're three hours ahead of us on the East Coast. I'm sorry." Chloe sounded frazzled. "I'll call back later."

"No, it's fine." Emma sat up. "Is something wrong?"

"It's – no. It's not an emergency. I just…" Chloe took a deep breath and then, "ImayhaveagreedtogooutwithLuciferandIdon'tthinkitwasagoodideaandcanyoutellmeifIjustscrewedmyselfbecause – "

"Whoa. What? Can you repeat that?" Emma leaned back, conscious of Killian's curious stare. "You what? Lucifer?"

"Yes. I may have… well, we did, really. We're going on, well. A date. An actual one." Chloe blew out a breath. "Did I just make a horrible mistake?"

Killian, overhearing this through the phone, got a smirk that, quite literally, the Devil himself could not remove. He leaned closer, as Emma hissed and tried to push him off; this was important girl-to-girl business, they could deal with his inevitable gloating later. He gave her puppy eyes, which was so distracting that she almost forgot to answer Chloe. "I'm – no, that's wonderful. Our first one was – memorable, but it was good. Dinner somewhere, or what?"

"Something like that. He says he's going to plan it. Is it too late to change my mind?"

"No," Emma said gently. "But give it a try."

Chloe was silent for a moment on the other end of the phone; Emma could hear her breathing. She knew it wasn't that Chloe didn't want to do this, but she was hedging about finally, actually easing into anything approaching a relationship, trying to have a serious, mature connection with a man who, despite how much he'd changed, was still an infamous philanderer and debauched club owner and glib, sarcastic, dangerous, damaged soul, even without the whole Devil thing thrown into the mix. Emma got it. She did. Not even because the feared Captain Hook, scourge of the seven seas and mighty pirate menace, with a shadowy and bloodstained career of several centuries, was lying on her lap with absolutely ridiculous bedhead and gazing at her adoringly.

She bit a grin and said to Chloe, "Tell me how it goes."

Some months later, after things had gone very well indeed on the West Coast and were changing on the East Coast, after Emma called Chloe to let her know that she was having a daughter and frantically asking for tips on how to parent a girl, after Caitriona Rose Jones was born lustily howling her lungs out at 3:00 in the morning, Emma and Killian decided to ask a question.

Lucifer was absolutely, utterly horrified at the idea, not least indignantly wanting to know why anyone would inflict a helpless child with something as awful as a godparent. He had a godparent himself, literally, and they are Not All They Are Cracked Up To Be. This was probably child abuse. He clucked and complained and fussed until Chloe took the phone from him, audibly hit him with it, and told Emma they would love to come to Maine and see her.

(Lucifer was still whining when they hung up.)

(Lucifer was still whining when Emma and Killian picked the three of them up at the airport in Portland and drove them up to Storybrooke.)

(Lucifer was still whining when they walked up the steps into their house, Henry appeared with Cait in his arms, Chloe cooed and reached out to hold her, Lucifer stood as stiffly as if waiting for the firing squad, then finally glanced down at the baby's cherubic, sleeping face.)

He looked at her for a very, very long moment. Everyone waited.

"You know," he said. "I'm still not going to be your spawn's godfather. Not in a thousand years."

Emma and Killian did their best to look understanding, even if they were rather hurt. Chloe glared at him.

"But," Lucifer added. He stopped, and then a grin spread across his face from ear to ear. "I see no reason a devilfather shouldn't be even better."

Thus far, despite all the promises of the weird and wild, the idea that she could physically be turned into a toad or something worse just by setting foot in this thrice-cursed (at least) crazytown with its inhabitants who took Disney cosplaying to its most extreme degree, Chloe was finding their visit to Storybrooke almost. . . well. . . normal.

Sure, there were quirks and oddities and whatever, but she figured that was the same as any small town with "character." Yes, she had met some people in the line for the coffee shop (there was only one, no Starbucks or anything, it was kind of charmingly quaint) who were absolutely convinced that they remembered entire lives in somewhere called the Enchanted Forest where their mother lived in a shoe, but they weren't hurting anyone. Getting away from an endless, smoggy, traffic-ridden mega-metropolis, and her day job of investigating gruesome murders, was incredibly relaxing. You couldn't reliably get a 4G signal, there were two restaurants and one bar, and everything was shut down after 9pm. Yes, according to the residents, it was usually because some sort of mythical baddie was stalking the shadows and might curse their memories away, but it was still. . . well. . . cute.

Therefore, it was no surprise that Lucifer was of the opinion, which he was making extenuatingly clear at every opportunity, that this was actually worse than Hell Itself, and he should know. No cell phone coverage? No decent drink after nine o'clock? All the latest in 1980s tech?! What sort of horrible place had they landed in? It was clearly designed for a seventy-year-old-retiree couple named Maurice and Gladys, and very well, they'd seen the spawn, the spawn was inoffensive as spawn went, he was ready to go now. Actually, yesterday. They had gone for a walk in the woods, of all the gruesome things. Chloe could almost see the giant NATURE, IT'S ALL OVER ME, GET IT OFF! warning sign flashing above his head.

"Cooperate," she ordered him. "We're here for the week, as we agreed. Besides, Trixie loves it. I don't care if you sit in a corner sulking the entire time, we're staying for her."

This was true, as Trixie was in absolute, utter, complete hog heaven. She was just running from princess to princess – Belle, Snow, Jasmine, Ariel, Aurora, Cinderella, and so forth – collecting autographs and chatting to them for hours about their lives. Chloe had to admit that even the most dedicated Disney cast members, who had to stay in character all day for overexcited children at theme parks, probably hadn't worked out their backstories so extensively. It was nice of them, but she kept trying to drag Trixie off and apologize for bothering them, until she finally gave up. They didn't seem to mind, and absolutely nobody turned a hair when Lucifer introduced himself as the Devil. They just wanted to know if he was going to curse the town again, or if he had a beef with the other Dark One who lived around these parts. Upon discovering that the greatest threat he posed was possibly whining them all to death and drinking the town's entire supply of bourbon, they were happy to leave him be.

Speaking of the Devil, he was pouting. Again. "But Detective. It's so boring! I can't believe you'd force me to endure this utter mind-numbing ordeal at such threat to my – "

"Go amuse yourself, then," Chloe said, grabbing him by the designer lapels and giving him a little shake. She was awfully fond of him – they had been together long enough for her to be perfectly fine admitting that – but he was such a child. Better about many things, but not this. "I'm going to continue to enjoy my hard-earned vacation seeing Emma and the new baby and the rest of the reasons we came here. As I said. You're welcome to sulk. Or have fun with Killian."

Lucifer leaned in to nuzzle her nose, looking very woebegone. "Can we have sex? That's not boring."

Chloe bit her lip, unable to stop herself from putting her arms around his neck, leaning into him. "All right," she said with a sigh and a grin. "Maybe you won't be bored tonight."

Lucifer lit up like a Christmas tree (quite an ironic metaphor, in his case, but still). "Oh? I officially don't hate this place after all."

"I hate this place," Lucifer growled, as Chloe hauled on his arm. "I hate this place!"

The dwarf – his name was apparently Leroy – was running out of the diner yelling that they were under attack, which was basically exactly how he had come running into the diner. Chloe and Lucifer were snuggled up in the corner (he had stopped whining about their completely provincial restaurant options, for once, and Granny, the owner, clearly had more than a little crush on him) and had been about to kiss, when the door banged open, the human disruption came bellowing that they were under attack from some kind of evil pig, and conclusively killed the moment. He had come pelting up to them, repeated the message in case they hadn't heard it the first time, and was rewarded for his trouble by Lucifer giving him the full red-eye blood-skull death stare, which had been the cause of his high-velocity exit. The only change was from "WE'RE UNDER ATTACK BY AN EVIL PIG!" to "I'M UNDER ATTACK BY THE DEVIL! THE DEVIL!" Very sympathy-provoking, clearly.

Lucifer adjusted his cufflinks, swearing profusely under his breath, and stalked out after the other denizens of this godforsaken place (either that or dear old Dad had designed it precisely to remind him that He could still bring hell directly to him). Sure enough, some sort of giant evil black swine with burning red eyes was charging up the street, scattering parked cars left and right (fine with him, maybe they'd finally have to buy vehicles manufactured in this millennium) and the good people of Storybrooke were amassing to brace against its porcine fury. Chloe, stepping out after him, sputtered, "Wh – what is that thing?"

"Monday." Emma stepped up behind them, raising her hands, which began to glow with a furious white light. "Step aside, I'll take care of it."

"Wait – monsters. Magic. This whole thing – " Chloe blinked. "All the princesses Trixie has been bothering – they're actually – ?"

"Can we save your existential dilemma for another time, darling?" Lucifer strolled up, tapped Emma on the shoulder, and smiled winningly. "Let me handle this, Sheriff."

"Do you know what that is?"

"Oh yes. Standard-variety hellbeast. Very tasty roasted with apples." He stepped out in front of her, put his hands on his hips, and stared evilly at the pig, which skidded to a halt so fast that it nearly left trotter-shaped marks in the street. It then whirled around and peeled out the same way it had come, hitting some invisible boundary line and exploding into ash and cinders. He regarded it with immense smugness, then revolved on the spot to take in Emma and Chloe's faces. One was impressed, the other was simply dumbstruck.

"Well," Emma said. "That is the fastest we have ever stopped a crisis around here. Wow. Thanks. Are you sure you don't want to stay?"

"I can say with the greatest of assurances, my dear sheriff." Lucifer looked sincere. "I would absolutely rather be dead. And now, please excuse me. I am going to do something very bad to that hirsute, obnoxious, undersized loudmouth."

"Mate," Killian said fervently. "Be my guest."

That was how the next day, Grumpy the Dwarf found himself tied to a tree somewhere out in the woods Lucifer had previously disdained (they did have their uses) face to face with the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (or rather, Captain Hook). Both of them were cordially informing him that if he ever disrupted a quiet moment with either of them and their respective lady loves again, the pig was only the start of the torments that would be unleashed upon him, and that if he did not try very, very hard to develop even five percent of a brain to mouth filter, it would be even worse. Grumpy was so terrified that he had absolutely nothing to say, either then or for the next twenty-four hours. It was probably the first truly peaceful day Storybrooke had ever had.

Furthermore, Killian had had a brilliant idea as how to solve Lucifer's boredom issues, and offered that the two of them and Henry go out in the Jolly Roger for a spot of adventure. Lucifer was likewise quick to grasp the possibilities that this offered, out in the sun with plenty of rum in the lockers, a pack of cigarettes in his breast pocket, and an impressionable fifteen-year-old aboard, and as Henry had finished his turn steering the ship, he sidled up to him, offering him the glass of whiskey. "So, tell me, young man. Don't you want a sip?"

"Uh. . . I'm not exactly old enough to drink, so I don't think I should – "

"Oh, come now. Boys' day out, you're almost a grownup, aren't you?" Lucifer grinned enticingly. "Away from your overprotective mothers and their fussiness? Nobody has to know. Go on. Just one taste."

Henry shot a look at Killian. "Uh – well, I would kind of like to try – "

"Excellent! So what's stopping you?" Lucifer looked at him significantly, gave it a moment. "Don't you want to be a man? A hero? Regarded as strong as everyone else?"

"Yeah," Henry said, blinking. "Yeah, I. . . I do." And with that, took the glass, took a sip, and as the full jet-fuel effect of the whiskey hit, staggered around the deck wheezing and hacking.

"Oh dear," Lucifer said, regarding the results. "Should have started with something a bit easier. Ah! Here." He took a hand-rolled cigarette of suspicious circumference out of his jacket, flicked the lighter to the tip, and took a slow drag, letting the rich, mellow buzz of cannabis flow through him, before offering it to the coughing teenager. "This is just what you need, my boy."

Henry took the cigarette, carefully inhaled, managed to do it without further asphyxiating himself, and looked rather blissed-out for the next few minutes, until Killian looped a rope around the wheel and came to join them. "What on earth are you giving the boy, Morningstar?!"

"Just a little treat. Here, we saved some for you. Try it?"

Killian tried it. His eyes went wide.

"Right, I forgot, you're from Bumfucktopia, you don't appreciate the world-changing powers of a good toke. Daresay you people had more of it, you wouldn't feel nearly so obliged to sprint around trying to fix it every time someone stubs their toe." Lucifer leaned against the railing, blowing elegant smoke rings. "So, Henry. Do you happen to know what a Penthouse Pet is?"

"No," Henry and Killian said in unison. "What is a Penthouse Pet?"

It was past dark by the time the three of them stumbled tipsily ashore, Henry loudly repeating a joke about how if Lucifer gave someone the Evil D, he was giving them the Devil, and that was funny, because Lucifer was the Devil and also liked giving people the D (although only one person these days). They were all laughing uproariously as they reached the top of the dock and ran into Emma, Regina, and Chloe, waiting for them with arms crossed and looking very much like Amenadiel on a particularly thunder-and-lightning bad day. Actually, scratch that. Worse.

"Oh," Lucifer said, skidding to a halt. "Unexpected."

"Emma," Chloe said, cringing. "I am so sorry. I am so sorry. When I told him to entertain himself, I really didn't think there was much trouble he could get into in this – "

"Hey, Moms," Henry said, giggling. "Wanna hear a joke?"

"Uh, no, no, no they do not." Killian sprang forward, clamping a hand over his stepson's mouth, as Henry kept giggling helplessly. "Rather a late night, eh? Everyone should get to bed?"

Regina stared at him as if very much wishing she could turn him into a little heap of ash on the spot, then whirled on Lucifer. "You – did you just let my son smoke pot?"

"Very fine stuff," Lucifer assured her. "You should have seen the transportation security demon's face when he found it in my bag."

"You mean a TSA agent? As if that's going to – "

"No, I mean a demon. Lots of them work in that field, for some reason." Lucifer smirked. "And your boy had a marvelous time, so what's the problem? And me, well, I haven't corrupted a youth in a few eons and it was absolutely wonderful, so everyone wins, and – "

"What – you think corrupting a youth is fun and games? My son? Do you have any idea who you're dealing with? I was the Evil Queen! If you ever – "

"Oh, boo-hoo, blah blah blah. Darling, I'm sure it's terribly interesting – actually, no, no, I'm sure it's terribly boring. Bee tee dubs, you got your little apple trick from me, remember?"

Regina opened and shut her mouth, as Emma and Chloe continued to glare daggers through their respective malfeasant menfolk. Henry burped and swayed gently on the spot.

"It's just a bit of booze and a smoke or two," Killian protested. "I'm sure all of us did far worse when we were the lad's age. What's the harm?"

"Your choice in friendships is very questionable, you two," Regina growled. "Very, very questionable. Henry is staying with me until he's left town."

"I. . ." Emma looked guilty. "You know, that's probably not a bad idea. No more Lucifer time for you, kid."

"Aw, Mom! I like him!"

"See?" Lucifer announced, turning to them with the air of a collector unveiling a priceless painting in a gallery. "He likes me!"

"Of course he does," Emma sighed. "Unfortunately, I'm the parent here, and I say no. Henry, come on. Killian, we will talk about this later."

As the women marched off, Henry in reluctant tow, Killian and Lucifer stood watching them go with philosophical expressions. Then Killian said, "We're sleeping on the couch for the next week, aren't we?"

Lucifer looked taken aback, as if he had never considered that his afternoon of fun and jollies could deprive him of being able to partake in his favorite activity. Then he considered it, nodded, and held up his hand.

Killian high-fived him.

"You did what to Henry?" David Nolan repeated, aghast. "And you didn't even invite me? To, you know," he corrected, sensing his wife's glare. "Keep an eye on things?"

"Mate, really? You think I'm inviting my father-in-law, and more pertinently the sheriff's deputy, Prince Charming, Sir Just and Upright, for a fun afternoon lark with the Devil?"

"Killian, you know I want you and Emma to feel free to live your lives, and I know you've changed a lot yourself, but how on earth do you feel like that man is appropriate to have anywhere near my grandchildren? Including my newborn granddaughter?"

"Well, if it helps," Lucifer drawled, "I don't intend to be near the spawn, as much as I can possibly manage it. I hate children, you know."

David looked at him, looked at Trixie sitting on his lap clutching her drawing of Jasmine which she had just gotten her to sign and Jasmine to promise to see if she could find the magic carpet, and said, "Right."

Lucifer looked down in alarm. "What? How did the small human get there? Scram, you. Go on, fetch the stick, whatever. Shoo. Go."

"You're funny." Trixie grinned, with cherry-popsicle-stained lips. "Luci, look at my picture that I drew. Jasmine signed it."

Lucifer looked at it. "It's hideous."

Chloe hit him very hard on the leg.

"Uh, hideously. . . talented." Lucifer rubbed his thigh, eyes watering slightly. "Clearly destined for the Louvre. Priceless work of art."

"See," David said, clearly expecting that his point had been made. "Him."

"Look, I know he's weird, but he. . ." Emma waved a hand. "We like him. We like both of them. And no, none of us are eager for a repeat of last night, are we, but – they live in L.A. anyway, it's not like we're going to see them all that much, and they're our friends. They are, all right?"

"I don't know," Chloe said playfully. "Think we should look into relocating."

Lucifer looked utterly aghast. "You're a sheriff's deputy, Dave? Is that what you said? Please, quickly hand me that service weapon of yours, I need to shoot myself."

"Just kidding." Chloe looked at him significantly. "But we do like Emma and Killian a lot, and we're happy to be Cait's non-godparents, and we've had a great time, despite everything."

"Well," Mary Margaret pointed out. "He did get rid of the evil pig for us. And he played the piano so beautifully the other night."

"Yes, thank you." Lucifer nodded and beamed at her. "A lady of true taste, intelligence, and beauty, a jewel beyond compare. Dare I say, the fairest of them all."

Mary Margaret giggled. Her cheeks turned pink.

"Right," David said. "He's definitely leaving."