Lucifer was halfway through enjoying his breakfast, watching Matt recover from his earlier embarrassment, when his phone buzzed.
He glanced down at it, brow arching in mild confusion.
No one should have this number.
He had only just created this identity yesterday.
And yet—
Unknown Caller.
Mazikeen, noticing his expression, perked up slightly, smirking. "That was fast."
Lucifer hummed, clearly intrigued, before casually answering the call and bringing the phone to his ear.
"Well, well," he purred, "whoever you are, I must say, I'm impressed. I wasn't expecting a mysterious summons this soon."
A pause.
"Good morning, Lucifer. Would you be opposed to a meeting today?"
Natasha Romanoff's voice was smooth, even—controlled.
Lucifer's eyebrows lifted slightly.
"Agent Romanoff," he drawled, leaning back in his chair, golden eyes gleaming with interest. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"My boss would like to meet you," she said, bypassing his question entirely.
Mazikeen, visibly brightening, smirked knowingly at her boss.
Lucifer tilted his head, tapping his fingers against the table. "That depends," he mused. "How did you get this number?"
A beat of silence.
"Would it be fun for you if I told you?" Natasha asked, her tone vaguely amused.
Lucifer chuckled.
"Ah, you do know how to lure me in, don't you?" he purred, clearly entertained.
Natasha didn't respond, letting the silence stretch between them.
Lucifer sighed, dramatically, then shrugged.
"Fine," he said lazily, "I'll bite. Where shall we meet?"
"You can choose the place, but it has to be in New York," Natasha offered smoothly.
Lucifer hummed, intrigued. "How generous of you, Agent Romanoff."
"And," she added, "you can invite your new friend if you'd like."
Lucifer's expression shifted.
The amusement in his golden eyes dimmed slightly, replaced with something cooler, sharper.
His lips curled, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Tell me, Agent Romanoff," he murmured, voice light, but laced with something darker beneath it, "are you threatening my friend?"
Matt, who had been quietly eating, looked up, his brow furrowing slightly at Lucifer's tone.
Natasha didn't hesitate.
"No," she said simply. "Just extending the invitation."
Lucifer was silent for a moment, studying the air as if he could see her through the phone.
Then his smirk returned, but this time, it was edged with something pointed, predatory.
"Good," he murmured. "Because I would hate for this little meeting to become unpleasant."
Natasha didn't react.
Didn't waver.
"Of course," she said smoothly. "Let me know where and when."
Lucifer chuckled, his good mood returning.
"Oh, I do love a good mystery," he mused, before giving her the location of a high-end lounge in the city he had seen yesterday while trying to convince Maze to change venues.
"Noted," Natasha said. "See you soon, Morningstar."
The line clicked dead and Lucifer set his phone down, smirking to himself.
Mazikeen, grinning, leaned forward.
"Can I keep her?" she asked, half-joking, half-serious.
Lucifer sighed. "I knew you'd say that."
Matt, who had been quietly finishing his breakfast, set down his fork and leaned back slightly.
"Who was that?" he asked, his tone calm but edged with curiosity.
Lucifer tilted his head, studying him.
"A government agency, from what I gathered," he said smoothly.
Matt's fingers drummed lightly against the table.
His expression remained neutral, but Lucifer could see the shift in his posture—a quiet tension, something restrained.
Matt wasn't as playful about this as Lucifer was. He didn't like being in the spotlight. Didn't like being known.
Lucifer, picking up on the subtle change, softened his gaze slightly, watching Matt carefully.
Mazikeen, however, raised a brow.
"They already know about you," she pointed out, stretching lazily in her chair. "Might as well go."
Matt let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders before nodding.
"Yeah," he murmured, more to himself than to them.
He didn't like it—but he liked Lucifer's company more.
And besides—If they already knew about him, then there was no point hiding now.
Lucifer, pleased with his answer, grinned.
"Well then," he purred, standing up with an easy stretch, golden eyes gleaming. "Shall we?"
Matt sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Let's get this over with."
Mazikeen smirked. "Oh, this is gonna be fun."
Lucifer chuckled, slipping on his coat.
"Let's hope so, darling. Let's hope so."
Lucifer wasn't one to rush—especially not when there was fun to be had.
So instead of leaping straight into the meeting, he took his sweet time, finishing breakfast at a leisurely pace, enjoying every flustered glance from Matt, every eye roll from Mazikeen as he dragged out the morning.
After all—there were other things to do first.
Like deciding what Matt should wear.
Lucifer, with a flick of his fingers, summoned a mirror out of thin air and snapped his fingers again—
And suddenly, Matt was dressed in a perfectly tailored navy-blue suit.
Matt stilled.
Then, hesitantly, he turned toward the mirror.
It was the first time he had seen himself in over two decades.
Lucifer, watching him carefully, noticed the way Matt's fingers twitched slightly, the way his jaw tightened, the way his eyes traced his own reflection like he was memorizing every inch.
Lucifer's usual teasing smirk softened slightly.
"Well?" he murmured, tilting his head. "What do you think?"
Matt exhaled slowly.
"It's… strange," he admitted, his voice quieter than usual.
Lucifer hummed, letting him take his time.
Then, with another snap of his fingers, the navy-blue suit vanished—replaced by deep burgundy.
Matt blinked, taking it in.
Lucifer smirked. "You strike me as a red kind of man."
Matt huffed, shaking his head slightly before turning back toward the mirror.
Lucifer watched him, golden eyes gleaming with something unreadable.
Matt took his time, carefully assessing each color Lucifer gave him, reacquainting himself with his own reflection after years of relying solely on touch and sound.
Eventually, he settled on a simple, deep gray ensemble, something subtle but elegant.
Lucifer, pleased, adjusted the lapels slightly before stepping back.
"Perfect," he murmured, grinning.
Matt let out a slow breath, giving himself one last look before turning away.
"Alright," he said, rolling his shoulders, falling back into composure. "Let's go."
Lucifer arched a brow. "Ah, but what about your little request, darling?"
Matt blinked before realizing—
Right.
"The glasses," he said, voice a touch sheepish.
Lucifer snapped his fingers once more—and a sleek pair of dark sunglasses appeared in his hand.
Matt reached out, running his fingers along the sturdy, high-quality frame before sliding them on.
The moment he did—a wave of relief washed over him.
The world was still visible, but now it felt a little less overwhelming.
Lucifer, watching his reaction, tilted his head.
"You know," he mused, "you could let those agents know I restored your sight. They already know my nature—it wouldn't exactly be shocking."
Matt considered this for a moment, then nodded slightly.
"Maybe," he admitted, adjusting the glasses. "But I'll still bring the cane."
Lucifer smirked. "Ah, still the same old Matt. Ever the enigma."
Matt simply shrugged, smirking slightly.
Mazikeen, having grown bored of the wardrobe changes, stretched her arms over her head, choosing to wear her usual leather.
"Are we done now?" she groaned. "Or are you two going to stand there and make eyes at each other all day?"
Lucifer chuckled.
"Patience, my dear Maze," he purred. "All good things take time."
Mazikeen rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Can we go cause some trouble now?"
Lucifer grinned.
"Oh, absolutely."
And with that—they finally left.
Though Lucifer didn't walk to the meeting.
That would have been boring.
Instead, he flew.
One moment, he, Matt, and Mazikeen were standing outside—
The next?
They were inside the lounge, appearing without a sound, materializing with the grace of something far too powerful to be bound by mortal laws.
No one noticed.
No heads turned.
No gasps of surprise.
No reaction at all.
No one—except Natasha Romanoff.
She was already watching them, her gaze sharp, entirely unsurprised, sitting in a strategic corner where she could see everything.
And beside her—
A bald, African American man in too much black and too much leather, his one good eye focused on them the moment Natasha looked in their direction.
Lucifer grinned and disappeared the glamor enough to be seen by the man.
"Ah," he purred, striding toward them without hesitation, settling into the seat across from them with effortless confidence and dissipating the glamor completely and naturally so as to make it obvious to others that they have appeared from nothing. "A familiar look."
Natasha remained impassive, but the man beside her didn't speak—just watched.
Lucifer didn't seem to mind.
He leaned back in his chair, grinning like this was the most entertaining thing to happen all week.
"You know," he mused, tilting his head, "this is the second bald leader I've met so far."
Mazikeen snorted.
Matt pinched the bridge of his nose.
Natasha's lips twitched—just barely.
The man, however, remained completely still.
Lucifer, amused by the lack of reaction, continued anyway.
"Though I must say," he went on, eyeing the man thoughtfully, "you're obviously much younger than the last one. And significantly less powerful in terms of personal strength."
Matt exhaled slowly.
Mazikeen grinned.
Natasha blinked slowly.
The man still didn't react.
Lucifer, undeterred, gestured loosely toward him.
"But for a human who leads other mundane humans, you carry authority well. It suits you."
A pause.
Then, finally, the man spoke.
"Are you done?"
Lucifer grinned wider.
"Oh, not even remotely," he purred.
But before he could continue, the man finally leaned forward, his expression flat, unreadable.
"Nick Fury," he said simply.
Lucifer tilted his head, intrigued.
Fury's gaze didn't waver.
"And you're Lucifer Morningstar," he said, matter-of-factly.
Lucifer laughed at his deadpan-like tone.
Oh, this was going to be fun.