my_own_advocate | Somewhere in Los Angeles, Tuesday Night

Duke sat down next to him, close enough to press his entire side against Lucifer’s.

He wanted to say something. Make this better. But there was nothing he could say that would do that.

All Octavia had managed to do with the entire silent walk here was make herself more angry.

With how tightly her jaw was clenched, it was no wonder she didn't seem to be able to force herself to sit down. She just stopped and stood ridigly by them and -- didn't know what to do.

There was a helplessness, right underneath the white-hot anger churning on the surface. It rang with the way Lucifer's voice had broken, the last time she'd heard him speak.

It was Lucifer, then, who surprised himself by actually speaking.

"I spent all day wondering why I didn't have an immediate easy answer for you yesterday," he said quietly. "And why I couldn't find one for the Detective, either."

He sucked in a breath.

"I suppose now I know."

"Your dad's a dick," Duke said, voice soft. He reached for Lucifer's hand. "I know as well as anyone how much that can fuck you up."

How long had it taken him to believe that Octavia could love him? Or that his feelings for her in return could be real?

"Your dad's worthless," Octavia ground out.

She wasn't looking at them. She was staring past them at the fountain.

"My Dad... is my Dad," Lucifer said quietly. "And they say apples rarely fall that far from the tree."

Lucifer had better tread carefully here -- he was dating a man who was trying very hard not to think he was destined to become a serial killer like his father and generations upon generations of Crockers before him.

"Oddly enough, I'm pretty sure angels don't work just like fruit trees."

Yeah, that had made Octavia's eyes flick to Lucifer, too.

"And none of us are our parents," she said, managing a slightly milder tone.

"No," Lucifer said. He folded his hands together. "But perhaps this entire mess sprung forth from the same source, and I, too, am incapable of love."

He stared at the ground. "And that's not fair to either of you."

That dinner had done quite a job on years of slow progress.

Duke shot a look up at Octavia, full of sadness and disbelief.

"I don't believe that for a second."

"I don't, either," Octavia said, and boy, had that mildness not lasted long. She'd just felt like her stomach had dropped, and she sounded it, too.

Her eyes were wider than they had been, a few seconds ago, as she looked from Duke to Lucifer. "Incapable? Just because your dad made all the wrong choices?"

"He made me," Lucifer said. If her stomach had dropped, then his had plummeted down to the center of the earth sometime during that silent walk. But it made such a horrifying amount of sense: he couldn't be there for any of the people who cared about him because he was fundamentally broken.

"The two of you can have the bed tonight."

"I was made by a serial killer and a useless junkie," Duke said. "I'm not incapable of love." He tried pressing a kiss to Lucifer's cheek. "Neither are you."

Octavia crouched down in front of Lucifer, trying to catch his eyes.

(Tried not to think about the times Duke had done the same with her.)

"Where the hell do you think you're going to sleep?"

"The couch, obviously," Lucifer said. He glanced up at her eyes only briefly, and then to Duke, and then back at the floor.

(He didn't flinch away from Duke's kiss, at least.)

"I mean my parents made me," he said. "Yours-- smashed their DNA together and somehow managed to pass on only the good bits."

"What about your mom?" Duke asked. If Lucifer was sleeping on the couch, Duke would just sleep on the couch too. He was much too stubborn to be put off like that. "She made you, too, right? Was she incapable of love?"

Octavia was slightly more likely to choose the slightly more subtle approach to sleep next to the couch on the floor, but the thought was the same.

She tried putting her hand on Lucifer's knee, the expression on her face slowly morphing into concern.

Goddess adored him, and on some level Lucifer knew that. But right now all he could think of was how broken everything had been, how much he was letting everyone down by being him, again.

So he said nothing. He couldn't parse the question.

Duke moved to slide his arms around Lucifer's waist.

"You're tired," he said, barely more than a whisper. "Let's just get you back to your loft, huh?"

He wanted to wrap Lucifer up in a blanket and hiss at anyone who came close who wasn't him or Octavia. (Or maybe Chloe, but she was on thin ice.)

And to think they'd been worried over Lucifer kissing Chloe. And how that had felt like it might be a step away from them.

"Yeah," Octavia agreed in a murmur. "We should do that."

"Right," Lucifer said.

He really was tired. And miserable, and in pain, but also very, very tired. "All right."

He rose gingerly from his seat.

Duke moved with him, unwilling to let him go for any longer than he absolutely had to. Like when he had to use one hand to dip into his pocket and pull out his phone.

"I'll get us an Uber."

Octavia stood up, too.

And found herself just watching them. It wasn't like she could help. And her chest felt --

Too tight.

Octavia had at least figured it out, Lucifer reflected.

"I don't deserve this," he told Duke, who clearly hadn't.

Duke knew that feeling.

"I don't give a shit if you deserve it or not. You're getting it."

He tucked his phone away again.

"Carlos will be here in a red Honda Civic in six minutes."

"Deserve's got nothing to do with it," Octavia murmured.

Not for the first time.

"A Civic," Lucifer muttered.

Yeah, he was going to judge the car choice because otherwise he'd have to engage with what they were saying.

What? Carlos was the closest one who wasn't picking up multiple people at once!

"Deal with it, babe," Duke said gently, and moved to kiss Lucifer on the hair.

Octavia didn't know what else to say. Maybe one of these days she would learn Duke's strategy of going for the touching, even in a public place like this, but she wasn't there yet.

She just wanted them to get home.

(Except that wasn't where they were going.)

Lucifer sighed, knowing he should really move away from Duke and not let him continue to indulge this-- fool's errand. He really should.

(It was also the one thing holding him together right now.)

So he stood there, muttered something about the indignity of the car, and then fell silent. Waiting.

Duke was going to hang onto him as long as Lucifer would let him. After a few moments of them all standing around in silence, he started humming.

Sorry, Luce, but Jimmy Buffet had long since become his go-to quiet soothing song, and you were just going to have to deal with it.

(Or maybe get distracted by ranting about it. Duke would be happy with either reaction.)

It didn't take Octavia long to figure out what it was.

The small, soft snort was reflexive.

Lucifer groaned. At least in that respect, he was still utterly predictable. If a bit sluggish about the reaction, which took a bit longer than it otherwise would have.

"Jimmy bloody Buffet, Duke?" he said. "I want to say your timing needs work, but there's never a reasonable time for Buffet."

"Shhh," Duke said, hiding a smile in Lucifer's hair. When all else failed, he could always rely on being obnoxious. "It's soothing."

"Careful, Lucifer," Octavia said, managing a low rasp that was meant to have some lightness to it. Didn't quite hit it. "It's my favorite."

She was looking down the street, as if she knew what a Honda Civic looked like.

It was ugly, was what it was.

"Yes, well, I don't go to either of you for your musical suggestions," Lucifer muttered.

Well, fine. He and Duke had shared a few moments, here and there.

"Could go with Iggy Pop instead?" Duke asked, chuckling. "Or Lou Reed? The Cure?"

Octavia fell quiet again. Duke was better at trying to engage Lucifer with chatty nonsense, anyway.

Come on, Carlos.

“Any of the above.”

Ah, there was the tiredness again.

That was the trouble with the obnoxious distraction: it was never meant to last long.

Fortunately, a red Honda Civic was indeed pulling up.

"Carlos!" Duke greeted. "I don't suppose you could put on some nice classic New Wave for us, could you?"

Carlos shrugged. "You gimme five stars, sure."

"Can we just go?"

That came out far more exasperated than Octavia had meant it to, but, no taking it back now.

She'd just climb in the back seat and hope she'd feel like she was able to breathe again once they made it to the penthouse.

"Agreed," Lucifer said, tired and quiet, as he slid into the back of the car.

Well. Duke would keep the energy up for all of them, sitting up front and bantering with Carlos and making a show of selecting upbeat songs for the ride to Lux.

What Carlos must have made of the three of them they'd never know. But he probably came to some kind of unflattering conclusions about Duke as a third wheel.

But at least there was obvious life in him.

The most Octavia did all ride long was slide her hand over, trying to take Lucifer's in hers.

Lucifer let her. He knew he shouldn't, except he felt lost, and the solid touch of her hand was as grounding as the chatter of Duke's voice was.

(If he hadn't been so lost in the past few hours, in how they meant that he was defective, he might have realized how much he loved them now.)

He gave her hand a light squeeze and stared out the window, letting Duke's voice wash over him.

Duke kept it up as they arrived at Lux, making himself as big and distracting as possible to keep any paparazzi or hangers-on out on the street from making note of Lucifer's subdued state. His arms went everywhere as he announced to anyone who would listen what a fantastic Uber driver Carlos was, and how he was going to get rave reviews.

It was entirely likely at least some of the folks in the crowd thought Carlos had given him drugs. Sorry, Carlos.

Octavia had rarely been as grateful for how loud (and not just noisewise) Duke could get when need be as she was right now. He could draw attention, and she could tug Lucifer along through the crowd.

By the hand, because she hadn't let go.

Wouldn't let go.

Lucifer followed right behind, powerless to do otherwise now that they hadn't let him leave like he'd tried to.

(That was selfish, he knew that.)

His back thunked against the elevator wall as soon as they were in. He took a deep breath.

Duke just barely made it into the elevator before it closed, managing to shoo off anyone who might try to ride along with them. He took his own deep, settling breath, then reached for Lucifer.

"Almost there, babe," he said softly. Apparently when Lucifer was clearly falling apart, Duke's pet names kicked in hard.

Octavia, still holding Lucifer's hand, shifted closer. Close enough that she could lean against his shoulder a little.

Slowly finding some more of that physicality Duke had already been doing so well with in the park.

Duke was just taking advantage of the fact Lucifer didn't have the energy to protest right now.

"You really shouldn't," he said quietly, watching both of them through sad, half-closed eyes.

(He was glad they'd stayed.)

"Since when do I do what I should?" Duke asked. "I'm a rogue and an outlaw, remember?"

Octavia didn't want to list the things she was.

She leaned into Lucifer a little more firmly, instead.

"Duke," Lucifer sighed, even as the doors opened up to the penthouse.

He knew how important it was to Duke. People caring about him properly.

"Yeah, yeah." Duke rolled his eyes good naturedly as he tugged Lucifer into the loft space. "Shut up."

While Duke tugged, Octavia pushed, gently.

As if Lucifer needed all the help he could get. Everything they had to give.

Lucifer pulled away from them once he made it into the loft. (It took a great deal of effort.) "Right, bed is yours, as I said," he said, turning towards the couch.

Stripping out of his jacket, his shoes, his trousers, his shirt. All the armor he'd put on to go to dinner tonight.

Duke didn't argue. He'd just drape himself over Lucifer once he was settled.

Instead, he went to go pour Lucifer a nice scotch.

Octavia wasn't arguing, exactly, but...

She sighed quietly as she watched Lucifer stripping down. "What is not sleeping in your bed supposed to do, Lucifer?"

"Because it's not fair for me to be there," Lucifer said.

He got up again, but only to snag a blanket from a nearby container.

Edited 2021-07-07 03:15 (UTC)

Duke returned with the scotch. "Ah, good, you've got the blanket already."

He was about to get burrito-ed into that blanket if Duke had anything to say about it.

Octavia shot Duke a helpless look.

What was his plan, here? He couldn't have been going along with Lucifer's stupid, sad idea.

Lucifer shot him a tired look and reached for a pillow, pulling it in towards him.

He stretched his legs out on the couch and laid down.

Duke set the scotch down on the coffee table near Lucifer’s head, the picked up the blanket and tucked Lucifer in.

Then proceeded to lay down carefully on the couch with him, an arm and a leg wrapped around him in an embrace.

Oh.

Well, guess that was better than arguing.

Octavia exhaled a soft, quiet sigh, watching them. Still standing a little ways away.

Lucifer sighed quietly. "What are you doing, you absolutely ridiculous man?"

"You can sleep wherever you want," Duke said. "And I'll sleep wherever it is, too."

Octavia turned quietly to head to the bedroom.

There wasn't enough room for three on the couch. And she -- needed things.

Lucifer shut his eyes with a little exasperated noise. "You really should join her."

He didn't have the strength of mind after everything to make Duke go away, but he still... really should.

"I'm exactly where I really should be," Duke said, giving him a little squeeze.

There was barely enough room on this couch for two, he was practically lying on top of Lucifer. He was pretty sure he knew why Octavia had headed for the bedroom and it wasn't to go to sleep in there.

It was not.

And it didn't take long before Octavia came back - carrying a pillow and a blanket plucked right off Lucifer's bed.

She didn't make any more of a show of her return than she had of leaving.

"You two are impossible," Lucifer mumbled.

"Mmhm," Duke agreed easily. "Now get some sleep."

Octavia set the blanket and the pillow down on the floor next to the couch. And kicked off her boots, finally.

And laid down.

Lucifer made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat.

But his eyes were already closed, and he didn't protest further.

Surely they'd get uncomfortable soon and realize they were better off in bed?

He was vastly underestimating the stubbornness of his partners.

Duke settled in as comfortably as possible and closed his own eyes.

Maybe Lucifer would be in a more reasonable state of mind in the morning.

Octavia had her doubts.

Still, she too settled down. And eventually drifted off to a restless sleep, mostly because the past two days had been very, very long.

Lucifer slept… some.

Only to wake again two hours later in blessed fuzzy-headed ignorance. At least until he wondered why he was awake, and then he remembered, biting on his bottom lip to swallow a whimper.

Right. There was Duke, plastered against him.

Duke, who needed affection so badly he flung himself at it even when it had danger signs taped to it on all ends. Duke, who was apparently determined to stay stuck with him. It wasn't fair.

Edited 2021-07-07 22:02 (UTC)

Duke, who was only at best half-asleep, because sleeping on the couch like this really wasn't terribly comfortable.

He didn't say anything about it, didn't ask questions. Just tightened his grip a little to let Lucifer know he was still there. Still not going anywhere. If he'd known Lucifer was thinking it was just his own issues that made him cling like this, he'd . . . well. Probably call Lucifer an idiot and keep clinging anyway.

Lucifer let himself believe Duke was still asleep. He lowered his face gently into the crook of Duke's neck.

He couldn't stop thinking about the look on Father's face. That infuriatingly sad non-answer. He thought about being so young and believing himself surrounded by love until it all came to a sudden, crashing end. The repressed hope Dad would one day come around and shine that light on him again.

The dashed hope of another light, rejecting him because of Father. And the knowledge that now he had to let go of yet another hope, not because it was being taken from him, but because Father, again, and how He'd made them, and--

And he didn't want to go back to Hell.

His eyes were watering again.

He made a soft, pained noise.

This was not the way Duke had ever anticipated Lucifer breaking his heart.

Duke held on a little tighter. He didn't make any noise, didn't try to soothe him -- he'd just try to swallow it down, and Duke knew that sometimes you just had to let this shit out.

So he let Lucifer think he was sleeping, but refused to let Lucifer think he was alone.

After a moment, Lucifer's arm snuck out of that blanket burrito and slid around Duke's waist.

His body shook with a soundless sob - more than one, actually.

He shouldn't. Not here, not now. He should be licking his wounds in private.

But he'd started, and there was no taking it back.

Duke shifted a little, burrowing more firmly against Lucifer. He was wide awake now, and maybe plotting some way to murder God.

But since that was deeply unlikely to ever happen—and might actually backfire and hurt Lucifer more—he was happy to serve as a big warm teddy bear for his boyfriend to cry into.

It was almost reassuring in a way. Not that Lucifer was crying, but that he trusted Duke enough to do so holding him. Even if he didn’t know Duke was awake while he did it.

Eventually, Lucifer settled. His miserable, self-loathing thoughts spun themselves into useless circles until they burned away, leaving only the exhaustion behind.

He wasn't sure if he was falling back asleep or just drifting, exactly.

He hadn't given in to Duke's arms around him before, but now that he had, he had no desire to extract himself. So he stayed there, face tucked into Duke's neck, on the precipice of sleep.

Or perhaps right into it.

Somewhere in Los Angeles, Tuesday Night

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