The Cape Rouge, Sunday Morning

[my_own_advocate]

Three people on this boat had been on the pub crawl last night. One of them hadn't drunk any alcohol, another had a celestial liver, and then... well, there was Duke.

Poor drunk Duke, who they'd carried - carefully - onto the Rouge last night and who was likely to experience a truly horrific hangover when he woke up sometime in the next few hours. Lucifer had already set out a glass of water and some painkillers for him, and was inclined to leave it that way, since hungover Duke also had the potential to be very funny.

But for whatever reason, it was morning and he was awake. And Duke wasn't, yet. And another instinct overrode his desire to stay in bed and make fun of the inevitable crash.

So he slunk out of bed, into the kitchen, and started cooking.

[[ for those who sleep here sometimes ]]

Comments

[my_own_advocate]

Lucifer huffed in amusement. "If you say so," he said, and left Octavia to field that as he dedicated himself to pressing kisses to Duke's jaw.

[okteiviakom]

"Usually that's my line," Octavia noted, with a faintly amused tone of her own. "Both of those, actually."

[betterthanaplan]

"It's alright," Duke said. "We're just borrowing."

[my_own_advocate]

"We'll put them back later," Lucifer promised.

[okteiviakom]

"Ridiculous," Octavia huffed. It sounded like an endearment. It usually did. (It usually was.)

Now her fingers seemed entwined with Duke's hair for good. Brushing through them in a slow, soothing, repetitive motion.

"Anyway, it'd not flattery," she murmured. "It's just the truth."