my_own_advocate | A Room Facing the Harbor, The Inn at Henderson's Wharf, Tuesday Morning

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A Room Facing the Harbor, The Inn at Henderson's Wharf, Tuesday Morning

When Lucifer had thought to himself that he'd probably spend the week in bed, this past Sunday, waking up pollen-free in a quaint harborside hotel in Baltimore with Duke while Octavia did Father knows what in the woods was not really what he'd had in mind. But, well. Frankly he was a bit proud of himself for not going with his gut instincts and doing the right thing.

At least, it felt like the right thing. There was a bit of that right-thing rush.

Or perhaps it was just the smell of the ocean again. Salt and fish. Sigh.

He sat up gingerly in the bed, briefly disoriented. Partly because of the room. Partly because he was actually wearing underwear in bed. He rubbed his forehead. "Mrfh."

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"Hm?"

You'd have to be more specific, Duke, Lucifer was barely awake.

"Octavia," Duke said, back to looking at the ceiling. "When you asked if she wanted to come."

"I said you weren't handling the current situation on the island well, and I suspected she wasn't fond of it either, and whether she'd have any problems with relocating to Baltimore for the week," Lucifer said, attempting to recall the details of the conversation. "Offered to get her a separate room."

Duke hummed non-committedly, frowning.

"Then she was all 'don't know', opted out of breakfast a few texts later, and made me promise not to let you stay on the island on her behalf roughly five minutes after I told you staying on the island on her behalf was stupid," Lucifer continued. "Why?"

Duke shrugged. "She sent me an apology. I, uh. Haven't answered yet."

Lucifer made a thoughtful noise at that, and looked at him curiously.

"I don't really know what to say," Duke said. "I mean -- I know she has to do what's best for her. But it hurts, you know? She's the one who was there, when I got back after the thing with Helena. She's met Jean."

Duke hadn't talked about Helena with Lucifer, at least not recently. But he wasn't much thinking about what Lucifer might or might not already know, right now.

Sorry for not remembering whatever sparse details you might have given him over two thousand years ago, Duke, but-- "Sorry, the thing with Helena?"

Ordinarily, he would not expect you to, Lucifer.

"You, uh, remember how I reacted when you compared what Audrey did to 'date rape'?" Duke asked, glancing over. "With Helena -- you'd probably be right."

That was not easy to say out loud. Even after having told Danny pretty much immediately that he thought Helena might have slipped him something to make him sleep with her.

"I'm right regardless, but point understood," Lucifer said. He looked at Duke a moment longer, and--

"I may have told Octavia that she might want to evaluate her priorities where you're concerned."

"What?" Duke turned to look at Lucifer properly again, frowning. He had to swallow down on the instinct to defend her, even as he'd just admitted out loud that her behavior was hurting him. "Seriously?"

"Well, it was clear she realized this was going to upset you," Lucifer pointed out, "And we were hardly asking her to walk through hell to spend a month at a sorority party or anything."

"Oddly specific example," Duke said absently, mostly to buy himself time to think about that. "She does know. Or -- should. Helena almost killed me. Like, CPR on stairs because there was no time to move me almost. But. . . ." He pressed both hands against his face and dragged them slowly down. ". . . She . . . needs space."

It fucked with him that she needed it on the island, when he knew she didn't like her body getting messed with any more than he did, though.

"And normally I would have agreed with you," Lucifer said, "But this was important. And she could still have had space across the hall, or-- any other arrangement she would've preferred. I don't really understand what's in the preserve that's so damned important."

"It reminds her of the Ground," Duke said. "From before the bunker, with Trikru. It's the first place she really felt like she belonged." He looked back up at the ceiling.

It wasn't that interesting a ceiling, for all the staring at it he was doing.

"Maybe the only place she's felt that."

"Yes, I know," Lucifer said. "That first part, I mean, that second one seems unlikely. I just mean--"

He looked to the nightstand, hoping to find a bottle of liquor or something, but sadly he'd been too preoccupied with other things last night to concern himself with that.

"If even I can figure out this is important, she better have a damned good excuse for staying in the woods."

"Yeah," Duke said on a long sigh. "You know, I've got an issue with 'all or nothing', but sometimes I think maybe she does, too. At least when it comes to whether she's going to do something or not. Can't really talk that girl into or out of much of anything."

"Which is fine when we're all on the same wavelength, and I don't mind her running off to play magical hyperviolent woodland faerie for a bit when everything else is more or less normal, but right now it is bloody inconvenient, and I felt she should think about that," Lucifer said.

And nearly reached for a bottle that still wasn't there. Damn it.

"Hey." Duke reached for him. "I'm not arguing with you this time." He offered him a rueful smile. "Think I'm mostly just arguing with myself."

Lucifer let out a loud sigh. "Not exactly how I saw my week going," he muttered, and looked at Duke. "Has this been bouncing through your head all night?"

"No," Duke said. "Mostly just since I woke up." He stretched self-consciously. "Was hoping to settle it for myself before you woke up, but, uh. Clearly that did not work."

"And honestly, it's too early to argue with yourself about--" Lucifer waved his hand, "All of this emotional omnishambles."

Duke snorted. "'Omnishambles'?"

He rolled onto his side, letting himself look Lucifer over with fresh, non-pollen infested eyes.

"A big old mess," Lucifer said, watching him move with his head tilted.

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