The air was heavy. The end of days hung just beyond the horizon with a solemnity that was almost suffocating, a dark promise carried on the rays of sun that loomed just as well. It was palpable, even to those who had no idea. People had called into work and skipped school, electing to be with their families instead. Humans followed their guts, and the mass unease had put everyone on edge.

Natalie McAllister was no exception to this, though she was perhaps one of the only of her kind to have any real idea of what was coming.

As she did with most things, however, she took it in stride.

"There are no stars tonight," she observed, staring out of her bedroom window, straining to see past the tree that marred her view of the sky.

There was a grunt of acknowledgement from behind her, but she didn't turn to it. She pressed her forehead against the glass, twisting her head at odd angles to get a better look. There was not, she discovered with a huff after several attempts, one that worked.

"You'd think since the world was ending tomorrow we'd at least get a pretty night to enjoy. You know, before we all…" she trailed off, closing her eyes. "You don't have to fight him, Lucifer."

There was no rough response this time, only a silence that swelled with tension. They had done this same song and dance time and time again, yielding the same results every time. Yes, he did have to fight Michael. No, there wasn't another option.

"It was worth a shot," she murmured, catching his stony reflection in the glass. She finally pulled herself away and turned to face him, forcing a bright smile onto her face. "Well, if tonight is really our last night, I'm not gonna waste it!"

The hard lines of his face dissolved into something softer, something weary, though his eyes narrowed at her. It was better, she thought.

"And how, exactly, do you plan to do that?"

Natalie just shot him a grin, mischievous and more genuine than the one that preceded it.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist. Do you even have knickers under that thing? Don't get your skirt—" at his look, she snickered and corrected, "—toga in a twist." She grabbed her laptop and cracked it open.

"What are you doing, kid?"

"Just…" Her fingers flew across the keyboard and her tongue poked out in concentration. "Wait."

Seconds later, music filled the room, flowing through the cracks in the tension in the air and loosening it until she could breathe easy again. Her shoulders visibly relaxed, and she looked up proudly.

"I'm gonna dance."

Lucifer's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline in confusion and disbelief.

"You're gonna… That's how you're gonna spend your last night?"

Natalie shrugged, disappearing into her closet to slip out of her jeans and into a pair of leggings.

"This isn't even — this is some waltz shit. How are you going to dance to this?"

"I've always wanted to learn," she said, her voice muffled from inside the closet. There was a thump as she hit the wall and Lucifer rolled his eyes. "And there's no time like the present! Y'know, especially since there might not be a future."

"Typically you need a partner for that."

Natalie emerged from the closet with a cheeky grin.

"I was hoping I had one." She looked at him expectantly.

"No," he said blandly.

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"Well, you're just no fun," she huffed.

"I thought we established awhile back that you and I have different definitions of fun."

"Come on," she pleaded, pushing her lower lip out in a pretty pout. "I've danced with the devil in just about as many figurative ways as you can get. Won't you let me do it once literally? A dying wish and all that."

She punctuated it with a laugh, thinking herself hilarious, but a shadow fell over his face, darker than the starless night. Natalie inhaled sharply, instantly feeling bad about her flippancy.

"You're not going to die, kid. And for the last time, no." There was something harsher in his refusal this time, an edge to his voice that she had been so successful at keeping away thus far. It figured she'd bring it out during these last few moments of peace.

"Fine," she said, a little too brightly, overcompensating for her slip up. "I'll learn by myself, then."

"Be my guest." He turned his attention to the book he'd laid down awhile ago, and Natalie frowned at the tension in his shoulders, wishing she could do something to get him to relax a little bit.

He deserved at least one last night of it. After all, he might never get another—

She swallowed hard, cutting off that train of thought, feeling sick. She didn't want him to win, but she didn't want him to lose. She didn't want him to do anything besides sit in her room and complain about whatever cheesy movie they were watching on Netflix that night, or continue to cheat at Monopoly despite her shrill accusations of his unfairness, or even just be exactly as he was now, in her beanbag chair with a book, minus the set of his jaw and the rigidity of dread straining every tendon and muscle in his body.

She shook her head sharply, and pulled her laptop towards the end of her bed. She started it over and looked around for a "partner" before snatching a pillow and hoisting it into her arms. Lucifer made a sound that was half amused and half disbelieving and she did her best to ignore it.

If he wouldn't dance with her, fine.

For the next hour, Lucifer had to bear witness to Natalie's extraordinary lack of coordination and rhythm. It was one of the worst forms of torture he'd ever endured, watching her trip over nothing and butcher the simple steps again, and again, and again.

Her pillow partner was on a whole other level of pathetic that he wouldn't get into.

His book snapped shut in his lap, and Natalie jumped at the sound, fumbling again and turning to look at him.

"I would say it's un-fucking-believable how difficult you find a dance that has three steps, but you've always been full of surprises," he said, rising to his feet. He walked over and plucked the pillow from her hands, tossing it back onto her bed. A conspiratorial smile crept onto her face.

"Does this mean you're going to dance with me?" she asked, and he regretted nodding before he had even done it.

"Only to spare me the visual of watching you try to do it alone," he grumbled, and her eyes brightened with her laugh.

"If that's what you have to tell yourself," she teased, and turned to start the video over. "Ok, so, you have to — what are you doing!" He hijacked her computer and looked up something different, staring at the screen until he found was he was looking for.

The music started and Natalie looked between him and the screen.

"There's no instruction," she whined. Lucifer arched a dark eyebrow at her.

"I was there when the waltz was invented, kid," he said. "I know how to do it." She gawked at him.

"You know how to waltz?"

"Of course I do," he rolled his eyes, as if it was obvious. "It's not hard."

Yeah, she supposed that made sense. She didn't think it would ever stop being fascinating and hilarious that Lucifer himself knew how to dance, though.

"Well!" she exclaimed, taking his hands. "Show me."

He exhaled slowly through his nose, hoping he wouldn't regret this, and stepped closer to her. He showed her where to put her hands and how to hold her body. He nudged her feet into the right positions and then took her forwards, backwards, and side to side, slowly at first to teach her.

The hand on her back was soft at first, barely touching her, but the more she picked up, the closer he pressed her. The better she got, the more adventurous he let her become, spinning her out and twirling her around, her laughter and her smiles melting the tension from his shoulders, at least for a little while.

The music swelled to a crescendo and then faded into nothing. Lucifer couldn't help but think of it as a foreshadowing of the day to come as he spun Natalie back into his chest one last time.

Out of breath and red in the face, she grinned up at him, only to find him already staring at her with an intensity she couldn't place. She gasped quietly, knowing what that look meant. She reached up, touching his face gently with trembling fingers.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Don't mention it." His voice was low and rough and he reached up to take her wrist with a gentleness she'd never known he could possess. He pulled it from his face and Natalie twisted her hand from his grasp until she could slide her fingers through his.

There was nothing left to say. No more 'it's gonna be alright's, no more 'you don't have to do this's, no more 'I hope we make it out of this alive's, because that and more was silently shared in the space between their breaths.

She dropped her head to his chest and slid her free arm around him, squeezing his fingers tightly.

"I love you, you know," was what she finally said, and he didn't respond but she felt his arm tighten around her and his chin come to rest on top of her head.

And it was enough. For tonight, it had to be.