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stottlemorgan · 28 days ago

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Tropical Breeze / Adrian Monk x Trudy Monk

Summary: Monk experiences memories of Trudy from the most surprising of places. Tags: Not sure what to tag this as but in Monk fashion, grief, memories, a little fluffy, wistful Word count: 942. Author’s Note: This idea came about while I was looking through the chatter in the Monk discord, so, thanks to @churippu and @lassie-face for the idea! Ao3 Link. All photos above are sourced from Pinterest.

Click. Adrian’s hand reaches out, palm flat and facing the bright summer sky.

“Wipe.”

Tucking her unruly curls behind her ears in an attempt to fight the breeze, Sharona’s eyes roll before she plunges her hand into her handbag. She gives a quick glare to the back of Adrian’s head, her heels clacking against the pavement as she rushes to catch up to his determined strides.

“You don’t deserve a wipe,” she snarks, pulling out the packet and retrieving a wipe regardless, “I can’t believe you refused to shake Doctor Clifton’s hand. That man saves lives.”

“That man, Sharona,” Adrian retorts, glancing at her as they walk, “owns cats.”

Snatching the wipe with his usual discourtesy, Adrian begins to cleanse his hands. The familiar, soothing coolness of the soft cloth brings his shoulders down to a normal tensity, along with the internal racket of anxiety that had built during the suspect questioning. Though, this time, something is off. His shoes scuff against the pavement as he slows to a stop; his expected, cleanly reprieve shaken by an aroma not unfamiliar to him but habitually avoided.

It’s sweet. Fruity. Redolent… Pleasant.

Adrian’s lashes flutter as his mind reels back, the error, his compulsion, fiercely warring with the flashing of memories. Sunsets and colourful flowers and sugary breaths of laughter, utterly saccharine. Both in their physicality and their metaphorical sense as such beauty is woven into the tapestry of her. He slowly drags the wipe from within his fist, feeling the wetness coat his palm and watching it flop as he holds it in his other hand, staring. Sharona turns back to him, having accidentally passed him.

“Adrian?” Her eyes scan over his face, his slow-moving hands, his feet which are slightly askew due to stopping so ungainly.

“The wipe, it’s…” He trails off, swallowing thickly. The next breath he takes is shaky, deeper, the scent stuttering into his lungs as he both wants and fears each bud of emotion blooming throughout his body. Sharona’s brow furrows, her mouth bowing southwards as she steps a little closer, tentative, worried.

“It’s what? Is it wrong–?”

“No, no– It– It’s not wrong,” Adrian shakes his head, stumbling back a couple of paces, both hands now clutching the wipe, holding it to his chest, each breath bringing forth another memory of her, of life before. Her eyes glimmering and her hair shining in the sunlight like the jewels that adorned her neck and ears, in fact, brighter. Her lips candied with rouge and the sticky pinkness from one of her many favourite fruity drinks. Adrian closes his eyes.

“Then what is it?”

The question is simple, though the tumult of feeling flurrying about Adrian’s chest and stomach is anything but. Adrian lifts the wipe to his face, pressing it over his nose and mouth, inhaling. Eyes wide and blinking, Sharona guffaws, “Adrian, what are you doing?”

“It’s Trudy.” He murmurs through the wipe.

Sharona’s upper lip curls, her eyes narrowing as she speaks over the cacophony of the surrounding city, “What’s Trudy?”

“The wipe.”

An uncontrolled and confused laugh bursts from Sharona, her earrings glinting in the afternoon light as she shakes her head, “The wipe is Trudy? Adrian.” With a sigh, she reaches toward the wipe, her fingertips barely grazing Adrian’s wrist before he flails backward, gasping so loudly that it makes her jump. The people filling the busy sidewalk flow around them, stepping out of the way, some casting Adrian an exasperated look. Sharona’s shoulders hike up and her teeth bare before she takes a moment to compose herself, huffing, “Adrian, come on. You’re being a little weird about this.”

“I’m a little weird about everything.” Adrian counters, turning himself away from her a bit and cradling the wipe to his chest.

Sharona tilts her head, pursing her lips, conceding, “Yeah, you are. But this is weird, even for you.” She dunks her hand into her purse again, rummaging for a wipe of her own, inquisitive. “The wipe is Trudy,” she mutters to herself, and Adrian brings the wipe to his face again as he watches her, “Pretty sure Trudy didn’t smell of disinfec–” She cuts off once she takes out the packet, seeing the peachy tones of the graphic and skimming the lurid font that reads Tropical Breeze. With a mimed “Oh”, she gestures with the packet toward Adrian, “These are the wrong wipes.”

“They are, yes.”

“I must’ve grabbed the wrong ones when I left this morning. I can get you some more at the store, come on.” Sharona softly takes hold of his upper arm, starting to guide him. He lets her spin him around but plants his feet flatly to the pavement once she tries to walk, his voice high and straining to be casual,

“No, no, it’s okay.”

“It’s okay?”

“Yeah, may– maybe next time you could even uh– y’know, get twenty packets of fresh and twenty packets of–” he leans in a bit, scanning the font, “Tropical Breeze.”

Adrian starts off in the other direction, and Sharona’s hold on his arm brings her clumsily along with him. Her expression is that of soft bewilderment as she releases his arm, stuffing the wipe packet back into her bag.

“Trudy liked tropical scents, hm?” She asks, a light smile pulling at her lips when she spots Adrian rubbing gently at his cheek with the wipe. He nods as he walks, a small and wistful sigh escaping him.

“Yeah, the bright flowers, the sea, the sun– Hell–” Adrian chuckles, savouring the touch of the wipe against his cheek as though it were a kiss from Trudy, “She was the sun.”

#my writing #stottlemorgan #adrian monk #sharona fleming #trudy monk #adrian monk x trudy monk #monk #monk 2002 #monk 2002 fanfic #adrian monk fluff

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beans-shadow · 8 years ago

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The Whole Nine Yards

Summary: Lucifer drops by Chloe's house on a lazy day.

Author: little_bean (aka me)

Notes: Amidst all this angst of the season finale and hiatus, I just wanted some fluff! Title from the Lucifer gag reel.

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11110146

The sun was shining, Trixie was out playing at a friend’s house, Dan was doing improv with Amenadiel, Maze was doing God-knows what, and Chloe Decker was happy.

There could have been many reasons she was grossly happy. Maybe it was due to her solving a case in a clutch moment, thinking swiftly on her feet. Perhaps it was because of a nice evening out with Ella yesterday, the forensic scientist’s bubbly attitude not having yet gone away.

Or most likely, it was because Chloe Decker was dating the Devil.

The idea itself sounded absurd. And it definitely would have sounded insane to Chloe not a couple of months ago. But now, she simply stood upbeat in her kitchen, all alone, smiling into her coffee mug as she took a generous sip. The marvelous taste of the sugar-free almond milk drink danced on her tongue, emitting a glorious sigh of contentment from Chloe. She really did make the best coffee.

“Even I have not managed to elicit such a satisfied look on your face. What do you put in that monstrosity of a drink?”

Chloe opened her eyes to see Lucifer let himself into her apartment, smirking at her as he closed the door behind him. In response, Chloe just rolled her eyes, never surprised at his sexual comments, but always amused. Sometimes against every bone in her body, this man never failed to summon a smile from her. He knew it too, and used it to his advantage, the darn devil. Literally.

“Hey,” Chloe greeted him, deciding to ignore his question. It didn’t matter, anyways. Lucifer was tremendously disgusted by coffee. She’d seen him try it once, after he admitted to her of his crime of never tasting it. The grimace as Lucifer reacted to the drink was priceless, and Chloe regretted not taking a photo of the humorous look of betrayal that was plainly written on the fallen angel’s face. But she had saved the memory in stone in her mind, never letting him live down the moment.

Chloe gave him a soft smile, one that made Lucifer’s eyes soften in kind, one that left him vulnerable. It was a look he reserved only for her (and Trixie, when he thought Chloe wasn’t watching). The devotion in his gaze warmed Chloe’s stomach as she placed her mug on the counter. “What brings you here? Everyone else is out having a life,” she joked.

Now Lucifer frowned. Despite her constant teaching, and despite him having been on Earth now for over five years, he was still dreadful at picking apart sarcasm and joshing. He took everything so seriously. He was still practically a foreigner, constantly learning the euphemisms, the slang, the normalities of life—especially Los Angeles, American life.

“Do I need an excuse to come visit the greatest detective of the LAPD?” Lucifer asked, tilting his head sideways.

Chloe shook her head, making her way around the counter to take his arms in her hands. “You don’t mean that,” she insisted.

“Always so humble,” Lucifer whispered, voice dropping with his eyes as they sought her lips. His head quickly followed, as Chloe stood on her toes to meet him halfway. She could feel his smile against hers at each kept the kiss relatively chaste. Or at least Chloe tried, until she snuck a hand up his neck, tangling it in his fuzzy, curly hair, pulling him closer, opening her mouth wider.

Lucifer was the one who pulled away. He stared at her, gaze intense. “It’s true, you know. You really are the most talented detective.” She could tell this was really important to him, that she knew how he felt.

Chloe chuckled, shaking her head, trying to clear it of those hypnotizing eyes. “That you know,” she finished the sentence for him. She knew he wasn’t lying, that he believed the words he was saying. But there was no way. Out of the hundreds of detectives at the LAPD, spanning all over the Los Angeles county, Chloe Decker could not be the best one.

Lucifer sighed, probably guessing exactly what she was thinking. At least he also understood it was moot to try and argue with her. She was stubborn, to a pretty frustrating point, and she wasn’t afraid to admit that. So instead he just shrugged one shoulder, saying, “Well, you’re the only one that matters to me.” As Chloe smiled at him, he looked around. “What was your plan for the rest of the afternoon, Detective?”

Chloe stepped out of Lucifer’s warm arms, making her way to the living space. Trying to hide a blush, she gestured to the TV. “Not much. Just to watch some TV show until I either fall asleep on the couch, or Sarah’s mom drops Trixie back off.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Lucifer purred, following Chloe to the room. There was a time, Chloe remembered, where Lucifer would scoff at such a list of events. Before, he would not have considered any of that fun. But now, he seemed to appreciate the domestic moments more so than even Chloe did. It was as if he was done with the extravagant life he sought when he established Lux, when he first arrived at Earth. Now, he just wanted to relax, enjoy life. Be in the moment.

Be with Chloe.

Chloe smiled wide at Lucifer, flopping down on the couch. “Good. I agree.”

“Splendid.” Lucifer tore off his jacket, stretching his arms as his wings spread out in the living room. They reached to the sides of the compact space, and Lucifer groaned as they worked out the day’s kinks. It must be rough, Chloe thought, keeping them tucked away all day.

From her spot on the couch, Chloe let herself admire his beauty, for just a moment, before he caught her and started teasing her. The teasing, she had deduced, came from a place of both snarkiness and timidness. While Lucifer was never one to turn down praise about his physique, he was still always surprised whenever he saw her scrutinizing his angelic or demonic parts. He was getting better at it, finally understanding that she loved him, loved everything about him, but his previous rejections had been rough, had cut deep, and might always be in a state of healing.

Chloe blinked, bringing her back to the present, watching the wings ripple, the muscles straining underneath all of that white. The aura they released smelled like sanctification, the wind they brushed across her cheek sounded like a chorus of glory. The mix of sensations flooded her, but never overwhelmed her. It comforted her, felt so much like Lucifer it hurt. Not a bad hurt, but that tug that one gets when they see their favorite person act in a way that is just simply them. And you become reminded why you latched on to them so hard, and why you could never let go. Because you appreciate them for who they were, and who they will become.

Lucifer finally settled down next to her after sufficient stretching as Chloe switched on the TV. He extended his wing behind her, wrapping her in his feathers and tucking her against his chest. She welcomed the pull, resting her head on his body. His rhythmic, steady breathing always calmed her, slowed down her brain, allowing her to get the rest she needed, being the busy mom she was.

“What are we watching today?” Lucifer asked, gesturing to the set with his left wing, too lazy to lift his own arm.

“I want to show you what a real, good detective looks like,” Chloe informed him. “This is Monk, an old show about a San Francisco detective.”

Chloe could feel Lucifer shift under her weight, something bothering him. “I never participated that much in the consumerism side of humanity, but it is my understanding that most of this is fake.”

“That is correct,” Chloe said.

“That means this detective is fake as well. He’s not real,” Lucifer said. “So how could you say he is real?”

“Well,” Chloe said, unsure how to proceed. “I guess I tried to suggest this is what a better detective would look like. Or, if I was as good at you claim I am, this is how I quickly I should be able to put two in two together.”

“I doubt it, but I will humor you, Detective,” Lucifer said, rubbing her arm with his hand, up and down.

As per usual, Lucifer narrated during the entirety of the show. It always started with snorts, or scoffs, then steadily escalates to tuts, angry “no ways!” and then out-right comments about the character’s absurd, or clever, actions. For this one, he tried to guess the murderer within five minutes of the show. “I’m a civilian consultant, Detective, I know what I am talking about,” is what he told her when she asked him how he could possible know. Chloe just rolled her eyes, and went back to paying attention to Adrian Monk and Sharona Fleming.

She didn’t mind his commentary. To her, it meant he was invested in the show, actually listening and watching, instead of zoning out and pretending to have followed the plot, like Dan had used to. Besides, while his conjectures were never accurate (it was quite a tricky show), they were always entertaining.

Lucifer got so sucked into the show, in fact, despite being confused by Monk’s OCD, he insisted on watching the next episode, and then the next.

Chloe must have fallen asleep at some point, because when she opened her eyes next, Lucifer had moved onto an episode she didn't remember seeing the beginning of, and when she checked her watch, they’d gone well into the evening. She yawned, stretching her arm, and Lucifer moved his wing absentmindedly out of her way.

“This show is quite fascinating,” he remarked from the couch as Chloe stood up, searching for her phone. She patted her butt, checking those pockets, glanced at the counter, and then found it right in front of her: the living room table. “This Adrian human is remarkable. His fastidious nature allows him to notice the smallest of things that are pertinent to the case, yet sometimes he views this ability as a curse.”

Chloe pressed the home button. “Well, sometimes it is all about perspective. What we think is harmful to us actually, in the end, becomes the very thing that saves us.” She quickly read the messages on her phone. “Apparently, Trixie has decided to stay at Sarah’s house for the night. She got permission from Sarah’s mom, and Dan. They tried to ask me, but I missed it when I was asleep. Nothing I can do about that now.” She sighed, slapping her thigh in exacerbation.

Chloe looked up when she heard the TV go black, just as Lucifer rose from the couch, placing the remote on the table.

“That just might be the best news I have heard all day,” he informed her, a wicked smile on his face.

Chloe stood almost frozen at her spot, looking at Lucifer with as much really? as a single face could have.

“Are you serious right now, Lucifer?” she groaned as he approached her, snaking a hand around her waist, bringing his mouth to her neck. “I’m not sure this is the best time…”

“It’s always the best time, Detective,” Lucifer spoke to the crook of her neck, kissing her gently, tugging her closer to his chest. Still trying to resist, Chloe brought her hands up his chest, rubbing his shoulders. It was tough to refuse him. And no, not because he was the Devil. Chloe couldn’t care less about that when it came to this. It was simply because he was Lucifer. Her Lucifer.

“I was just asleep!” Chloe protested, chuckling as she touched her forehead to one of his shoulders.

Lucifer straightening under her hands, eyes becoming unfocused as his mind recalled something. A smile plastered on his face, one of pure joy and excitement.

“Oh! Well, I have a surprise for you that might just be the right pick-me-up for you!” he said happily, and turned to jog into Trixie’s room. He walked out a second later, hands behind his back, face still lit up with warm anticipation.

“A surprise you kept in Trixie’s room?” Chloe asked, a bit confused and a bit suspicious.

Lucifer raised his eyebrows. “Yes, well, I couldn’t have you snooping around and finding it. Now, please go back and sit on the couch. And close your eyes.”

Obeying his command, Chloe lifted a finger at him. “If this is one of those ‘open your mouth and close your eyes’ type of things, I swear to your father, Lucifer…”

“Of course not, Detective,” Lucifer scoffed, waving a hand in the air, still making sure to keep the object behind him. “But I will ask you to close your eyes.”

Chloe sighed. But she trusted Lucifer. Rubbing her hands over her leggings, she sat on the couch with her eyes shut tight, waiting patiently for Lucifer to uncover what he had in store for her. “Okay. Open.”

With those words, Chloe opened her eyes, then immediately started laughing at what she saw.

Lucifer stood in front of her, arms out, eyebrows raised, expectant. The smile on his face was so bright it made Chloe’s heart burst.

But on his head.

On his head was a headband. But not just any headband.

It was a devil horn headband, one that had two red horns poking out from the strap, sparkly and shiny, reflecting the dim living room light. They contrasted with Lucifer’s deep black hair, just drawing more attention to them.

“Lucifer, what are those things on your head?” Chloe tried to get out, speaking between snorts.

Lucifer frowned. “I think you know exactly what they are, Detective.”

More snorts. “Yeah, but I meant why do you have them on your head?” she laughed.

“Well, I know you have a things for horns. You told me so yourself. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I would think you were actually disappointed I didn’t have horns when you found out what I really was.”

Chloe finally got control of herself as she stood up, drawing closer to Lucifer. But she still chuckled. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a touch of disappointment. But you’re pretty good as is. Especially now,” she added, bringing up a hand to play with his horns. They were soft, and when she pinched them they easily collapsed under her strength. But they were cute, and Lucifer had got them specifically for her. Sue her, maybe she did still had horn dreams.

“I knew you would like them,” Lucifer purred. He leaned down, mouth searching for hers, and she surged upwards. Like always, kissing him generated waves of pleasure through Chloe’s body. His lips on hers, tongue tracing her mouth. His hands practically left burn marks as they drew lines up her back, then back down as he tried to close the little distance between them.

And curse those damn horns, but Chloe’s hands kept going back to them, playing with them, shoving her fingers through his hair, dragging the headband with his curls. She could feel Lucifer hum with contentment under her touch as he deepened the kiss, lifting Chloe as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her to the countertop so she could rest as she took his face in her hands, kissing him hard, the temperature in the room rising.

After a couple of minutes, the couple parted to finally breathe. Unfortunately for Lucifer, he never had this problem before being tied to the detective. Now, he had to be aware of the fact that mortals needed air to live, and so did he. But he didn’t care. Not at all.

In the moment of rest, Chloe smiled as she brushed the tips of the horns with her finger. “These are too funny,” she said.

Lucifer smirked. “Yet they did the trick,” he said, placing a quick kiss on her lips.

Chloe dropped her hand to caress Lucifer’s cheek. She touched his mouth lightly. “You know, it’s kind of ironic how the Devil himself has the most adorable dimples.”

Lucifer drew back. “I am insulted, Detective! Adorable? That’s how you describe me?”

Chloe grabbed his shoulders, bringing him back. She smacked him with a kiss, moving slowly against him. “Yes, adorable. You are adorable, and I love you.”

Lucifer breathed in, taking in Chloe’s scent. Forehead to forehead, he stared at his detective. “And I love you, Chloe.”

Chloe smiled at him, and he just looked back in admiration. The two remained like that for a while until Chloe reached up to remove the horns from Lucifer’s head and place them on her own. “If I wear these, is it like you’re kissing yourself, or one of your demons?”

Lucifer’s brow pinched together in serious thought. “Neither. Like I said, and you know, I don’t actually have horns, and neither do any of my demons. Horns are just the result of human imagination.”

“Hmm.” Chloe said, playing with the horns, straightening them. “So, how do they look on me?” She leaned backwards to give him a better look, his hand on the small of her back, constantly supporting her.

He sized her up, hot gaze studying her whole body, despite her only asking about her head. But Chloe didn’t object. His eyes became almost predatory, yet on Lucifer, the vulnerability remained, and Chloe only felt more secure in his arms.

“You look positively ethereal,” he whispered, voice full of awe.

Shaking her head, Chloe snickered as she crossed her arms around Lucifer’s neck, drawing him in for another kiss.

Yes, Chloe Decker had many things to be happy about. And one was definitely thanks to her being in a relationship with Lucifer Morningstar. No one else had such a sweet, caring partner in the whole world. In the entire Universe. There was no way.

Notes: And maybe I wanted to address the horn kink (and declare my love for Tom's dimples). I hope you enjoyed this little story!

#lucifer #lucifer fanfic #fanfic #lucifer on fox #lucifer morningstar #chloe decker #deckerstar #deckerstar fanfic

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