Author's Note: This is something I started a looooong time ago, but never found the muse to actually finish. It’s mostly dialogue, and missing the elaborate descriptions I’m usually so fond of ;) I hope you’ll enjoy it. It’s not strictly necessary to read “Dinner from Hell” first, but it would make more sense, if you did.
Summary: No actual spanking in this one. Just a lot of talk about it. After “Dinner from Hell” Lucifer seeks Linda’s advice.
Disclaimer : I don’t own any of these characters, and I’m not making any money from this story.
Warnings : mentions spanking of an adult

Therapy Session

“Ah, Doctor! Marvellous!” Linda jumped slightly, as the door burst open, hand flying to her chest in surprise. “I could use some advice.”

“Lucifer?” she asked, willing her racing heart to calm. “Are you all right? Do we have an appointment?” She was very sure that he wasn’t due another session until tomorrow afternoon. She had just checked her schedule.

“Yes. – No, we don’t,” he replied, closing the door softly. “But I’m in dire need of your help.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. He had stopped barging in on her with whatever problem had presented itself in that moment, but stuck to his schedule. So whatever might be bothering him now, must be a more serious matter. “Have a seat then.” She motioned towards the couch, leaving her desk in favour to the armchair she usually used for sessions. “You’re in luck. My patient just cancelled.”

“Splendid!” he replied in a suspiciously chipper tone that made her wonder if he didn’t have anything to do with Todd’s last-minute cancellation. She didn’t let herself dwell on it, though, grabbing her notepad and pen and got as comfortable as possible. Lucifer remained standing at the door.

“How can I help you?”

“I need some advice,” he repeated, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt in an unusually fidgety way. She frowned slightly, the feeling that something was very off intensifying. She waited for him to continue, but his brows had furrowed and he was glaring at the floor, looking displeased about something or searching for the right words. It was very unusual for Lucifer to be at a lack for words, therefore she decided to give him a few more seconds.

Nothing.

He was still glaring at the floor. She followed his line of sight, inconspicuously, to rule out that he hadn’t been distracted by anything else but his own thoughts. One could never be sure with him.

There was nothing to see but the carpet on her floor.

“Okay,” she finally said softly. “Why don’t you sit down and describe what’s bothering you?” He frowned some more.

“It’s a delicate matter,” he finally forced out. “I don’t want to bore you with the details.”

“I’m sure I won’t be bored,” she assured him. This behaviour was very unlike him. He was usually so open in voicing his thoughts and problems (metaphors aside, of course) that she had started to take it for granted. It was a nice change from some of her other patients. It was also the reason she wasn’t quite prepared to deal with his newfound muteness.

“Anyway,” he started, moving his hand in an exasperated gesture. “You remember that I told you about my Mother?” He looked at her expectantly and she nodded dutifully. His mother, who had returned recently after a long estrangement, and who was not planning to kill him. Which terrified him. Because now he didn’t know what to expect. God, sometimes it was difficult to work through his metaphors.

“She…” he stopped himself again, clearly agitated, but trying to hide it behind his mask of nonchalance. “Let’s say, did something recently. – And I want her to never do it again.” She waited for more information, but it was clear that none was forthcoming as Lucifer just looked at her expectantly. Like she could just fix this situation with a flick of her fingers. Or a magic trick. It was a shame she hadn’t had time for breakfast this morning, since she sensed that this would take a bit longer than expected. Probably well through her coffee break.

“And did you try asking her to stop?” she asked. It was an obvious solution but one could never be sure with Lucifer. He looked at her scandalised.

“Of course I did!”

“Aaand?”

He huffed, pushing his hand in his pants pocket, and stared out the window.

“It didn’t work.”

“Okay.” She jotted down a few words on her notepad; mainly to have a few seconds to organise her thoughts and not because their conversation had produced anything noteworthy. Lucifer continued to stare out the window, his facial expression unusually unguarded today. Something was clearly bothering him. “It might help me to know what you want your mother to stop doing.”

“I trust you to find a solution without knowing what she did,” he replied, angling his face to look back at her. All right, she could work with that; had to actually. But she’d been faced with worse.

He shifted from foot to foot, one hand reaching back, before he apparently thought better of it and snatched it away again.

“Did she hurt you?”

“Yes!” She was slightly taken aback by his vehemence.

“You know there are organisations to help with that,” she said softly. “To file a restraining order and…”

“No,” he cut her off abruptly, waving her off. “Not like that. – She didn’t assault me if that’s what you’re thinking.” Her brows drew together in confusion. His mother had hurt him, but it wasn’t an ‘assault’. There were plenty of other ways to hurt someone that didn’t involve physical engagement. A lot of damage could be done with words alone, Linda knew.

“Did she touch you in any way?” she asked to clarify.

“Yes.” Again she waited for him to continue, but of course he didn’t.

“Sexually?”

“What? No!” he exclaimed scandalised. “Doctor!”

“I’m sorry,” she replied. “But you haven’t exactly been forthcoming about whatever happened. Your mother touched you, she hurt you, but not sexually and it wasn’t ‘an assault’.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “And I don’t want her to ever do it again!”

“Lucifer, I have to know what she did in order to help you,” she explained, trying to keep her exasperation at bay, but he wasn’t offering any more information. “Was it something that should be handled by the police?”

“No.” God, this was proving to be the worst game of Charades she’d ever played. His jaw worked furiously, muscles clenching and unclenching. “It was embarrassing, okay?”

“It was embarrassing,” she repeated.

“Yes, that’s what I just said. Do keep up, Doctor.”

“So, it hurt, and was embarrassing. You asked her not to do it again and she refused?” She summed up, a nagging suspicion creeping to the forefront of her mind. It was highly unlikely, of course. But who knew? His family was dysfunctional enough to warrant it.

“Yes. Can you believe that?”

“Lucifer, what did you do?” she asked, and for the first time since she’d taken up work as his therapist, she could detect a red hue creeping up his face. “I mean, what did you do that prompted your mother’s … whatever she did?”

He fidgeted. She waited.

“There might have been a disagreement,” he amended.

“About?” she inquired softly, tilting her head to the side and studying him closely. He fidgeted again, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“There was a small quarrel with my brother, Mum...” he paused, face puckering in irritation. “Interfered and now she wants me to apologise to Amenadiel. Which I also clearly don’t want to do and I need you to find a solution for that as well.”

Linda nodded slowly, jotting down the words‘fight/disagreement with brother’ and ‘unwilling to see fault in his actions’, before looking back up.

“What were you fighting about?”

“Oh, the usual.” He waved his hand in a sweeping gesture. “Him being a self-righteous prick and agreeing with Mum about everything.”

“So your mother didn’t like the both of you fighting?” Linda repeated.

“Yes.”

“And that surprises you?” she asked slowly.

“What? No. It doesn’t surprise me, Doctor.” He huffed in irritation, turning his head to stare out of the window. “I just don’t want her to act on her annoyance.”

“Then what did she do? – Did she scold you? Tell you off?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “And in company! Talk about taking a blow to my reputation!”

“So you felt embarrassed,” she concluded. “Because people witnessed?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, looking at her again. “Well, not people, just Amenadiel.”

“Amenadiel heard your mother scold you?”

“Yes. Why do you keep repeating what I tell you?” He frowned at her, fingers fiddling with his cuffs again.

“Just trying to make sense of the situation,” she explained in a soothing voice. “Didn’t your mother scold Amenadiel too? If the both of you were fighting?”

“That’s just it! She didn’t!”

“And why do you think is that?”

“How should I know?”

“Shouldn’t your brother get told off for fighting too?” Lucifer looked away again, suddenly clearly uncomfortable. Another bout of silence followed. She waited him out.

“Well, it wasn’t so much a fight… He didn’t actually do anything,” he admitted after a few beats. Linda paused shortly, sorting her jumbled thoughts.

“You didn’t fight,” she concluded. “Then what happened? Did you insult and tease him until your mother interfered?”

“That might have happened,” he said through clenched teeth. Which meant, yes, it was exactly what had taken place.

“Okay.” She nodded, and wrote down a bit more, hoping to prompt Lucifer to reveal more about the disagreement with his mother. He was never one to deal well with silence. And she wasn’t disappointed.

“She sent me to bed!” he exclaimed. “Can you believe that?”

“And why did she do that?” It was unusual, sure, to send a grown man to bed, but not unheard of. She was his mother and most likely only looking out for his wellbeing.

“She said that I am, and I quote, cranky,” he spit the word out in clear disgust. “Cranky! The Devil does not get cranky!”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“What do you mean that doesn’t sound too bad?” Lucifer repeated incredulously. “It isn’t all.” She nodded knowingly, but Lucifer clamped his mouth shut again.

“Did you go to bed?”

“Well, I wanted to.”

“But?”

“There was another minor disagreement.”

“With your mother?”

“Yes.”

“About?”

“My … willingness to follow her orders.” He shifted his weight again. “There might have been some shouting.” Linda nodded. “And I might have thrown my shoe at her,” he added in a barely audible mumble.

“You threw a shoe at your mother?”

“In my defence, I aimed for the door.”

“Right.” She took in his awkward stance at the door again, a thought occurring. “Is there a specific reason why you don’t want to sit down for this?”

“Is there a specific reason why you’re asking?”

“You’re very tall and looking up at you is starting to give me a crick in the neck.”

“Oh,” he breathed softly. “I… I apologise.” He looked at the couch quickly, and took the few steps towards it. Linda busied herself with her notes, giving the allusion that she wasn’t watching him with hawk-eyes. He glanced at her again, before lowering himself gingerly onto the cushion. If she hadn’t been watching him so closely, she might have missed the grimace that vanished as quickly as it had appeared. But it was all the confirmation she needed.

“So you hit your mother with a shoe,” she repeated, as he squirmed to get comfortable. “And she spanked you?” A furious blush flushed Lucifer’s face at her candid words, further manifesting her theory. He glared at her before dropping his eyes to the floor.

“Yes,” he bit out.

“And that’s what you don’t want her to ever do again?”

“Isn't it obvious?” he asked. “I also don’t want to apologise to Amenadiel.”

“But you fear that she might spank you again, if you don’t?”

“Please can we not use that word?” he said desperately, and she gave him a curt nod. “And yes, she said as much.”

“Then why don’t you just apologise to your brother?”

“Because I don’t want to. He’s going to tease me!”

“Did he do that in the past?”

“Well, no.” Lucifer squirmed again, staring at his shoes.

“Then what makes you think that he’d do so now?”

“I don’t know! – I don’t want to apologise!”

“I’m afraid there’s no way out of that, Lucifer.” He huffed angrily, glaring so fiercely at the floor that Linda couldn’t help but think that the carpet might just burst into flames. “I’m sorry,” she offered, but he didn’t react. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Bloody hell, no! I’d rather forget it ever happened!” he replied loudly.

“Okay,” she soothed. “If you ever do want to talk about it, you know where to find me.”

“Yes, now how do I get her to stop doing it?”

“Well, it depends on you actually,” she started. “You should try not agitating her so much.”

“What kind of rubbish advice is that?” Lucifer asked incredulously. “That’s clearly no help.”

“If you eliminate the things that set her off, she won’t do it again.”

“Yes, yes! Thank you, Doctor!” He stood up abruptly, and Linda dreaded his conclusion. “I just need to get rid of that wooden spoon! – It’s marvellous!” And before Linda could contradict him, he had already vanished, the door slamming close behind him. She sighed loudly. So much for helping him. She should probably invest in a fluffier pillow for their next session.