Somewhere in Los Angeles, Tuesday Night

[my_own_advocate]

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.

[[ for those who are here. ]]

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[betterthanaplan]

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.

[my_own_advocate]

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.

[betterthanaplan]

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.

[my_own_advocate]

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.