This is part one of an ongoing series I am writing now about Lucifer and his friendships with the people he knows. This one is where it all starts, with Dan and Ella on advice from Linda.

Chapter One - Linda's Part

Of course Doctor Linda would spot his irritability from a mile away, as she knew him a bit too well. That and his inability to sit still for more than a few minutes.

She sighed loudly, gave him a long, searching stare and then asked what had been on her mind since he had first walked into the room. "Alright, I'll bite. What's with the attitude?"

His jaw clenched, before he managed to unlock it enough to speak. "Nothing is wrong. I'm just irritated, that's all."

She shook her head. "No, there is definitely something going on here. What is it?"

He shifted and didn't give into the feeling to rub himself against the couch back to look for relief. "I'm not telling you."

"Why not?"

He glared at her, leaning forward and hunching his shoulders, but knowing it wouldn't help. "It's personal. And embarrassing. And bloody ugly too. Ugh."

He should have kept his mouth shut. Now she knew something was truly up and it wasn't just his mood. "I promise not to laugh."

He glared at her. "Laughing isn't the reaction I'd expect in my current state. Disgust is more like it."

She leaned back in her chair and stared and he knew she wouldn't drop it. He threw his hands up in the air. "Fine! I'll tell you. Dear old Dad thought it would be funny to give me back my wings."

Linda's eyes lit up at that. "You have your wings back? Can I see?"

He grimaced. "Yes and trust me, you don't want to see them."

"Why not?"

He stared at her, and could feel the blood rushing to his face in embarrassment. "Uh...it's just. He didn't give them back whole..."

Linda frowned at that. "What do you mean whole?"

"I mean he gave me back my wings but left a few things out..."

She stared blankly at him. "How do you leave things out of wings?"

He buried his head in his hands and groaned. "He decided to give me back my wings without the feathers, alright. Have you ever seen a plucked chicken? Yeah."

"Oh! So your wings are, what, naked?"

He stared at her. "I would not call their current state naked. Let's just say I went from plucked chicken to pin cushion. It hurts, I'm sore and itchy and it won't stop until the feathers have all fully grown in."

She kept up the blank stare and he shifted again, this time from wondering what it was she was thinking.

"Pin cushion?"

He blinked and it came to his attention that a psychiatrist who doesn't own a pet bird might not know anything about this type of problem. "Oh, yes. It's just the new feathers growing in. Makes me feel like a bloody fledgling, but at least they're growing in all together. This won't take as long as a moult because of that. Which is good. Wait...bloody hell, now I'm going to have to go through that again. Wings are not worth it..."

"Can I see?" she asked again, and this time it had nothing to do with her fascination with seeing him with wings and everything to do with her own curiosity in what he meant. Yeah, she really knew nothing about pin feathers.

He mulled it about, but shrugged. "Okay, but it isn't pretty."

He let his wings be seen by people on this plane of existence instead of the one he normally kept them in and she gasped. "Oh wow, that looks really, really uncomfortable."

He turned his head and stretched one of his wings out to stare at it. "It is that. I can't stand to be touched right now, so no touching. Should be good in a week, maybe two if it goes slowly. My wings are just a tiny bit bigger than a bird."

"A tiny bit...how much bigger will they be when the feathers grow in?"

He grinned. "A lot bigger. Not even the tip of a feather poking through yet. I look like an echidna. This is taking forever. Still, these are called pin feathers for a reason. And this is where the attitude comes from. It's normal, so nothing is wrong. It's just...really sore and itchy and I can't scratch because they might break and that's the last thing I want right now."

She leaned forward and stared at them. The quills slightly moved in his irritation. "Oh, wow. Is there anything that could help ease the itching?"

He shrugged. "A shower. Unfortunately, showers aren't exactly made for wings, and it's not like I am in a position to go outside and be hosed down for a bit of relief. It will pass, doctor. I'm fine."

She nodded, still staring. With a sigh, he pulled them both closer to his body and put them away where he normally kept them. Linda's face fell at that, but her fascination in seeing them like they are grated on his nerves. He also knew right then that there was no use continuing on with this session. It would all be about wings and he wasn't really in the mood to talk about them.

He stood up. "I'll just come back next week, shall I? Nothing's going to be done today."

Linda nodded, before holding up a hand. "Wait, before you go, just a suggestion? Find someone you know to help. I know I can't. So just...ask around?"

He frowned, no t knowing if any of the people he knew well enough to trust with this would be up for it. "I'll ask, but it's unlikely I'll find anyone."

Linda nodded at him, but he was free to go now. He decided as the itching made him want to rub against the door, that maybe she did have a point with at least asking others for help.

Too bad he had only three people to ask...