my_own_advocate | Somewhere in Los Angeles, Tuesday Night

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Somewhere in Los Angeles, Tuesday Night

He'd started walking again. Just like Monday, when Father had shown up for the first time.

Lucifer just walked, leaving Linda's house far behind him. He kept walking blindly, thoughts racing, barely even aware of Duke and Octavia following behind.

He kept walking until his thoughts were calmer.

Until they found themselves at a fountain in a park, somewhere, he only barely knew where.

He sat down by the fountain's edge and crossed his arms, staring into nothing.

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"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.

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