#wintersummer--3232

Y-YEAH I SAW THAT.....

If you don’t mind, could I possibly write a short fic about it?

@sanoiro @mischief-with-sandra @adragonstale BRUH. I AM IN AN EMOTIONAL CRISIS FROM THAT EPISODE NOW AND TRYING TO BRACE FOR NEXT WEEK’S EPISODE

My darling I am so, so sorry to hear that. Our pets are such a wonderful and integral part of our families, it’s always heartbreaking when we lose them. Take a small measure of comfort in knowing that your canine pal lived a full life with you and was never happier than when by your side.

I don’t have anything angsty for you, but perhaps a little snipped from sigist with Aamon and Lucifer playing ball will do?

“Chloe!” Lucifer says with surprise. He’s sprawled out in an armchair, some ancient looking book spread out on his lap. “I…didn’t expect you.”

Things are still weird, now that she knows The Truth. He hasn’t been by the precinct since he’d returned from Hell. At first she’d been grateful for the space, but day after day of not having him at her side….She realized she missed him.

Aamon returns from the hallway with a ball in his mouth, tail dragging behind him. The scales make a hissing noise as they skate across the penthouse floors. Aamon pauses at the sight of her, clearly debated something, and then shifts into human form. He drops the ball from his mouth and holds it self-consciously.

“Mistress,” he says with a dip of his head. He stands there awkwardly.

“Are you done playing?” Lucifer asks his Hellhound. Aamon’s head swivels to Lucifer and he hesitates, a quick glance at Chloe. “Aamon, do you want me to throw the ball again?” Lucifer specifies.

“Yes,” he says, unable to help himself.

“Well, then,” Lucifer replies with fond exasperation. “Bring it here.”

Aamon walks quickly over to Lucifer and crouches to one knee beside the armchair. He hands Lucifer the ball. Lucifer makes a play at throwing it, causing Aamon’s head to snap around, alert. Then he looks back at Lucifer, displeased, when he realizes it’s still in Lucifer’s hand.

“Sorry,” Lucifer grins, unashamed. “For real, this time.” He throws the ball and Aamon dashes after it, shoes slapping against the ground. He brings it back proudly, retaking his position at the Lucifer’s side. Lucifer takes it from him. “Aw, good boy,” he praises. “Such a good hound you are.”

Aamon makes a pleased noise in his throat and shifts his weight back and forth, as if he can’t quite contain how happy he is.

“You shouldn’t treat him like that,” Chloe says, slightly uncomfortable.

“Why not?” Lucifer looks honestly befuddled. “He is a good boy.”

“It’s just. He’s not an animal.” Chloe says attempting to express just what bothers her about it.

Lucifer’s face clears. Then he shakes his head at her fondly. “Aamon only looks human, Detective,” Lucifer explains gently. “And not in the same way Maze and I do.” He reaches out to ruffle Aamon’s hair before smoothing it with gentle pets. Aamon wiggles closer, happy. “He is a Hellhound, even when he doesn’t appear like one.”

Lucifer lifts the ball and holds it in a ready to throw position. Aamon’s whole focus is rapt on the toy, still, except for the fine tremor in his muscles. Lucifer throws the ball, angling for it to bounce the long distance of the hallway. Aamon bounds after it.

“Then why doesn’t he take the form of a dog?” Chloe asks, curious as to why Aamon is Hellhound in one form, but appearing human in another.

“He’s…” Lucifer stops, clearly trying to figure out the right way to word it. “He’s not a dog. He’s a Hellhound. He is capable of more. He speaks, he reasons - to a degree,” Lucifer amends, struggling with how to articulate it. “Like a child.”

Aamon has brought back the ball and Lucifer tosses it for him again, watching affectionately as Aamon scrambles to retrieve it.

“This explains so much,” Chloe says with blunt realization. All the times Lucifer attempted to get Trixie to fetch or pat her like a good dog is now illuminated in perfect, slightly horrifying, clarity.