my_own_advocate | Lucifer's Loft, Los Angeles, Saturday

"Morning," God sing-songed. Loudly.

And Octavia had been having such a nice time, too. Or at least she'd been all curled up against Lucifer - what, like he could avoid the middle spot when things were the way they were? - and taking some comfort from the skin-to-skin contact in her sleep.

She would've startled awake from much less than that loud greeting, and so her eyes flew open. And fixed, after a second of blurry vision, on -- God. Again.

"Was I not clear the first time? Get out!"

Duke’s loud, wordless, angry groan was clearly agreement.

He was God. He couldn’t knock?!

And Lucifer's eyes flew open. They were all naked in here!

"Dad!" he said, staring up at Him. "Boundaries!"

Edited 2021-07-11 20:27 (UTC)

God smiled at all of them, and lifted his tray. "I brought you breakfast," he said. "Don't be so dramatic. I mean, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve seen a naked body in this room..."

He glanced towards the living roon, "... in this bed, on the couch, on that desk, on the banister, on the floor, on the piano--"

Lucifer squawked.

Octavia didn't give a damn about how naked anyone was right now, or where such nakedness had taken place before.

Which explained the complete lack of an effort to cover anything up as she veered up with that all-too familiar fire in her eyes.

"No one wants you here. Get out."

bBecause that had worked so well the first time.

“Your dad’s not great at boundaries,” Duke mumbled to Lucifer. And rolled over to grope for his pants because he might like naked time as much as the next guy, but not in front of his boyfriend’s dad.

(Usually getting woken up naked in bed by a sexual partner’s parents involved a lot more screaming, actually. This was quieter, but way creepier.)

Her rage still didn't manage to wipe that smile off of God's face, no, but points for trying. "But I made your favorite," He said, pushing a fruit salad bowl with a drizzle and flakes of some kind on top of it closer towards her on the tray.

Lucifer groaned. "There's no point. He's never listened to me a day in my life, He's hardly going to start with you," he said, mirroring Duke.

Octavia looked like she was this close to smacking the bowl off the tray and onto the floor.

(Even though it looked good.)

(... Really good.)

"I don't care."

Duke had found pants and was tugging them on.

“Tavi,” he hissed quietly, thinking of what Amenadiel had told Dan. “Please don’t get smited.”

"Dad, please set down the tray and go back into the living room so we can get dressed properly," Lucifer said, a little flash of panic in his own eyes. "And I'll make coffee."

God looked away from the bundle of rage before Him and smiled at His son. "If that will make you feel more supported, son," he said, and set the tray down on the night stand.

“Feel more supported — is he serious?” Duke asked the universe.

Octavia still looked ready for violence.

Or at least swearing. But she did neither, and didn't even go with her petty urge to stay undressed out of pure spite.

She turned, slowly, to look for her clothes.

"It's a new thing He's trying," Lucifer said irritably, as Dad retreated to the living room. "Yesterday He tried to play catch with me on the job."

“He really has no idea how humans actually work, huh,” Duke mused. “I’d suggest making a run for it, but how do you run from God?”

"We can't even sleep in peace," Octavia hissed, tugging her underwear on. "There's no running."

"There's just-- making coffee," Lucifer muttered, tossing his legs over the edge of the bed so he, too, could put on trousers.

“What do you think he actually wants? If he were human I’d say he just found out he’s dying or something. Trying for one last chance before he’s worm food.”

Octavia had no insight to offer, because Octavia didn't want to have any insight to offer.

Bra, next. Now where was her shirt...?

"Well, it's Dad, so it's certainly not His impending mortality," Lucifer muttered, getting up off the bed. "Blah blah mysterious ways."

“That’s such a cop out. If he’s got reasons for all this he should just tell us.”

"Or at least you," Octavia said, finally looking at Lucifer. Holding her shirt in one hand.

Some of the anger seemed to have finally dimmed from her expression. For now.

Lucifer snorted bitterly.

"When does He ever tell me anything?" he said.

His hand came up, as if he wanted to touch one of them, or maybe both. Then he took off to the coffee machine.

Duke watched him go with a sigh.

“Think he’ll get less skittish again when his dad’s gone?”

"I really hope so," Octavia muttered, still looking off to where Lucifer had gone.

(She would have liked to touch him, too.)

"But that's assuming his dad goes." Optimism had become increasingly hard for her, over the last couple of days.

Down in the living room, Lucifer tried to get the coffee maker going. And, all right, succeeded, but it was hard to focus while Dad insisted on hovering over His shoulder.

"I do know how to do this properly, you know."

"Hm-hm."

Right. Of course. Lucifer grabbed a mug and filled it up and thrust it at Dad. "There. Ta-da. Coffee handled."

Edited 2021-07-13 16:39 (UTC)

God took the mug, and brought it to His mouth. He smelled it.

There was a wrinkle there, just between His eyebrows. It did not spell good news.

He took a sip of the coffee. Lowered the mug. Leaned over and spat out that mouthful of coffee into the sink.

"Hm."

Oh, what a great moment for Octavia to step out into the living room, finally fully dressed.

"... What was that?"

And Duke was not far behind. "So how does God take his coffee, anyway?"

"Apparently not the way I make it," Lucifer said flatly.

God frowned. "I didn't say that," He said, even as He went to pick up a bag of... coffee beans? From the bar.

"No, you just spat out my coffee like you accidentally swallowed a lizard," Lucifer said, bitterly. "See, this is how it’s always been with him. A subtle raised eyebrow, then straight to raining frogs."

Was Dad grinding coffee beans?

Edited 2021-07-13 21:53 (UTC)

Well, Octavia had been out of Bundle of Rage mode for a solid minute, anyway.

Time to look real damn offended, and not worry about any potential for smiting.

"That's your idea of support?"

Edited 2021-07-13 22:02 (UTC)

"Dude!" Duke said. "Tact!"

"I didn't say I hated it!" God protested.

He was most definitely grinding coffee beans. And finding a filter.

"Here," Lucifer said, shoving a cup at Octavia, "Taste it."

... shoving it at her and not at Duke because for all his attitude he couldn't handle any kind of rejection from anyone else right now and Octavia's backing of his coffee was guaranteed.

Octavia took the cup, and though this time the way her fingers bumped against his was purely accidental, it was still -- something.

She took a long, deliberate sip.

And said, "It's great coffee."

As her partners knew, she did not actually discriminate much when it came to her coffee. But this wasn't about that.

Duke would totally have supported Lucifer's coffee.

"Of course it is," he said. "Lucifer doesn't do stuff that's less than the best."

Look, Duke actually had a sophisticated palate, and Dad was increasingly making Lucifer insecure, here.

"It was fine," God said. He put the filter back down as soon as He noticed the French press. And went silent as He busied around making His own coffee.

Lucifer made a strangled Ah noise.

"I picked this up from Bolivia this morning," God said conversationally. "Single source, organic."

He bustled around for a few mugs and poured fresh coffee into them.

"A wonderful farmer, aptly named Jesús. He had this unique roasting method."

He held a mug out for any one of them to take.

Octavia wasn't reaching out for it.

Just pointedly raised her existing cup.

Duke’s eyes flicked to Lucifer, wondering how he’d want them to play this.

“Yeah, not everyone can just pop down to Bolivia, buddy.”

Lucifer just wanted to fix this mess between his Father and himself so he could go back to spending his days on a boat.

(Or with the--)

He sighed tiredly and took the cup. He sipped it. His expression shifted from wonderment to strongly trying to repress that sentiment. "It's... a little bitter..."

No, it wasn't.

"Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine! It’s incredible, okay?" he snapped, setting the cup back down. "You win."

God sighed. "This isn't about winning, son," he said. "I just want what's best for you."

Lucifer's eye twitched. He sucked in a deep breath. Fix the relationship. "Nothing, you're right," he said. "Thank you for the coffee."

Octavia said nothing, but sipped very deliberately from her cup.

It was either that or flinging the contents at God, and even she knew better than to do that.

At least right now.

Duke kinda wanted to try the incredible coffee. He was absolutely not going to say so though.

"Right. Thanks for --" nothing "-- stopping by, Heavenly Father, we should --" never "-- do this again sometime. Don't let the elevator door hit you on your way out."

God frowned. "Aren't we going to work today?" He asked Lucifer.

"No. No work today," Lucifer said firmly. (Which meant he'd have to tell the Detective he wasn't coming.) "Don't You have other children to annoy You've been neglecting?"

God tilted His head. "I suppose so," He said. "Hm."

And just like that, He vanished.

"... I don't like when he does that."

Which part?

Any of it.

Today had been rather less eventful, their wake-up call notwithstanding. Still Lucifer found it hard to think, to focus, to-- process anything.

So he'd asked Octavia and Duke to go pick up dinner. Just to get an hour or so to himself.

He leaned on the bar, staring into his drink. He still didn't know how to make sense of any of this.

One of the many great disadvantages of having an omniscient father: He knew exactly when you were alone.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal God, smiling. "How was your day, son?"

Lucifer's vest was unbuttoned, his jacket elsewhere. He'd pushed his sleeves up at some point. All the energy he could muster for Father after the past week was a sigh and a tired look. "Undisturbed, until now," he said. "How was yours?"

"Really good," God said, his voice warm and thoughtful as he strode into the room. (At least He'd left the bloody sweater at home, not that His light blue long-sleeved shirt was much of an improvement.) "I took your advice and went to see Amenadiel. He's going to be a wonderful father."

Days at home after dinner had let Lucifer recover from family dinner, to some extent. But after yesterday he felt raw again, aching on the inside like someone had taken sandpaper to his heart. "Hm," he managed in response, brought up his glass and took a sip.

"Sama--" God started.

No.

"Lucifer," He said. "I wish I could..."

He watched Lucifer turn around, something wary and sharp and yet tired in his son's eyes.

"I want to," He tried again. "...Know what you've done to your suit."

"Oh, don't pretend you're not omnipotent," Lucifer said, and took another sip. "There was a spill. Second suit I've ruined since yesterday, at least it's more salvageable."

Oh, that look. Did Dad want to know the details of that one, too?

"I had a run-in with a murder victim's girlfriend yesterday," he said, irritated. "We had bad chemistry."

"Oh," said God. "Well. I'm glad you're okay."

"Well, how can I not be?" Lucifer said.

Exhausted. "No one but hypothetically the people who've been staying here with me can hurt me," he said. "If that even still holds, after everything. For all I know I'm now forever invulnerable, completely unscathed forever, totally dandy and nothing for you to worry about."

A frown.

"I definitely believe this is one of those times you're saying one thing and mean another."

Lucifer pressed his hands to the counter, leaned over and stared at the scotch on his wall. He let out a huff, not quite a laugh.

"You know, it was bad enough, rejecting me, forcing me down to Hell," he said.

He pulled away from the bar. "But I had a life here," he said, as he turned to face his Father. "I had a good thing!"

He'd had a good thing.

(Damn it all. There were the tears again, threatening to break through. He wouldn't let them.)

"First there was the Detective, she made me vulnerable, but it was--" He let out a shuddering breath. "It was terrifying, but it was amazing. And, and then when Your machinations pushed her away, I found-- I found a new home with these incredible people, and-- for the first time in my long-- hopeless life--"

(His voice was breaking again.)

"I, I," he managed, sucking down shallow breaths as he pushed the tears back. (Tried. Maybe failed.) "I felt something."

Another breath.

"And then You just turn up and You... You-- You ruin it! You throw it all away!"

A sob lurched out of him.

"Why?"

There were no answers. When were there ever answers? Father just... Looked at him, like He was sad but also inscrutable, like He'd always--

The lights shifted from the apartment's cold blue to a warm orange.

He could hear music.

Of course. Dad couldn't just let him speak as he wished, He had to tear the words out of him, force them into a shape He found pleasing. And, as always, there was no point in fighting it.

"I dreamed a dream in times gone by; When hope was high and life worth living," he sang, striding through the room. All he could do now was-- keep those threatening tears at bay, couldn't he? The one bit of control left to him. "I dreamed that love would never die, I dreamed that God would be forgiving..."

He sucked in a breath.

"But I was young and unafraid.
And dreams were made And used and wasted.
There was no ransom to be paid--
No song unsung, no wine untasted."

Edited 2021-07-10 20:23 (UTC)

Oh, Samael.

"But the tigers come at night," God's voice boomed. "With their voices soft as thunder; as they tear your hope apart..."

Lucifer turned 'round to look at his Father, helpless to stop his voice from joining, harmonizing. "As they turn your dream to shame...!"

They drew out the last word, God's face a frown, Lucifer's-- resigned.

Angry.

He shook his head with disgust and slipped past Father. Walking towards the bar, feet quicker, voice quicker.

"And still I dream they'll come to me.
That we will live the years together."

With Father in pursuit. As always.

God raised his arms, wide and suffocating. Or was that Lucifer's imagination? "But there are dreams that cannot be, and there are storms we cannot weather."

Lucifer faced Him, in all His overbearing glory.

He was angry. He was sad. He was a strange and fluctuating mixture of both.

But it was easier to project the rage than the rest of it, each word a snap of fury.

"I had a dream my life would be,
So different from this Hell I’m living,
So different now from what it seems..."

Except fury was finite, where the sorrow was not. He loathed these moments, where his expression broke, his voice cracked, because after all this time the mask kept slipping through his fingers.

"Now life has..." His gaze dropped from Father's face. "Killed--" he forced out, short, an off staccato beat. "...the dream..."

He thought of Octavia, begging him to stay. Duke's dogged pursuit. The look in Chloe's eyes.

Long years of ash drifting in silence.

He collapsed in his chair with jagged, imprecise motions, as if each part of his body gave in to gravity separately, uncoordinated. "...I dreamed."

He was crying again. He leaned forward and pressed his fingertips to his eyes so Father couldn't see, a useless gesture, done because it was all he knew.

Edited 2021-07-11 12:12 (UTC)

"Oh, my son, the Lightbringer," God said softly.

He settled His hand on Samael's back, between his shoulder blades. He hoped His son would take it as the comfort He intended it to be.

"So full of light that it blinds even you sometimes."

What?

Lucifer sat up, sucking in a wet breath that was too-loud to his ears. "What does that mean?"

He couldn't resist being cryptic even now, could He?

"It means that I understand... that you're angry at me," God said, His own sadness in His eyes. "And I'm so very sorry about that."

Had Lucifer ever heard Him sound like that before? He could almost believe for just a second that Dad actually cared.

But the Devil was always in the details.

"So, You’re sorry for me, but You’re not sorry for what You’ve done," he concluded flatly.

"I didn't say that."

God sounded almost desperate.

"But I will say that I cannot fix you, Lucifer..."

Lucifer stared at Him through wet eyes. "But You're God."

He wasn't proud of how small and young he sounded. And he hated the silence that followed even worse. Eventually he took another sad, damp breath and wiped some of the snot and the tears from his face.

"Okay, fine," he said. Forced himself to his feet, to find some bloody dignity. "If You can't fix me, Dad, at least-- stop trying to control me."

The bar. A drink. Get yourself together.

There they went again. "How do I control you?" God asked, and yes, that was definite desperation there.

He really didn't see it, did He? Lucifer whirled back around to face Him. "You just made me sing! Again!" He just. He just. "I mean it has to stop, Dad!"

And he was crying. Again.

"Actually, I... I don't think that's possible," God said quietly.

Were those... tears sliding down Dad's cheek? No. Impossible.

"Right, well, if you’re not gonna try," he sighed, waving a hand as if to cast that thought aside. "I don't know why I should even bother."

No more of this.

Just. Drinks.

"It's not that I won't."

Now the crack was in God's voice, instead.

"It's that I don't think that I can," He sobbed, voice twisting.

What... what was He saying? For the first time, the feeling at Lucifer's core wasn't anger or hurt, it was... dread. Fear. He looked over his shoulder, searching Dad's bizarrely grief-stricken face, and said, "W-what does that mean?"

"My powers, son," God said. Helpless terror filled His face. "I, I, I think I'm losing control of them."

Time seemed to stop.

(Dad was... Dad. Dad was forever. Always there, always in control, always around...)

Impossible.

Couldn't be.

It was Dad.

What did that mean?

It couldn't mean what he thought it meant.

Why did he feel eight days old again?

Dad was forever.

"Dad?"

Dad had left in silence ten minutes ago. Still Lucifer hadn't left this chair, his vest still unbuttoned, his shirt a mess, eyes red and a clammy wetness on his face born of too much crying.

He stared at the balcony.

He should really get up and refresh his drink.

Edited 2021-07-11 13:24 (UTC)

“We’re back,” Duke announced, as he and Octavia stepped out of the elevator. He scanned the apartment with a frown. “Luce? You still here?”

Duke was carrying their actual dinner. Octavia... was carrying a store-bought cake in one of those funny plastic domes. It had just seemed like a time for cake, maybe.

She rarely got urges like that, so she tended to follow them.

The bad feeling she was getting right now was much more familiar, though. "Lucifer?"

"Hm?" Lucifer's voice was soft, distracted, like they'd just snapped him out of some place very deep within himself.

Duke spotted him and set the food down on the coffee table before joining him.

"Hey." This was a significant mood change from when they left. He moved to wrap an arm around Lucifer's waist and kiss his cheek hello. "What's up, babe?"

Edited 2021-07-14 15:54 (UTC)

Octavia was slower to circle around to them, her eyes immediately drawn to Lucifer's face.

Her chest hurt, just as fast.

"He was here again," she said. "Wasn't he?"

"Yes," Lucifer said softly.

Shutting his eyes didn't erase the tear stains from his face, but he could pretend.

Duke hissed softly through his teeth rather than curse out loud. He leaned into Lucifer a little harder.

"What'd he do this time?"

Octavia didn't need to reiterate the question.

She finally set the cake down on the table, then knelt where she could rest her hand on Lucifer's knee, looking up at him.

She'd never seen him like this before. It was... a little terrifying.

"Oh," Lucifer said. He let out a soft rueful huff as he opened his eyes and stared at the balcony again, right past them. "He made me sing again," he said. "Couldn't help Himself."

Duke groaned. "Are you kidding? He make you dance, too?"

Octavia gave Lucifer's knee a little squeeze.

This... seemed bad.

"Not a great deal of choreography in 'I Dreamed a Dream', is there," Lucifer said. He reached up, rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Then he looked up at Duke. "You were right," he said, "About the why."

"Hm?" Duke was distracted trying to remember what he could about the song "I Dreamed a Dream", and couldn't switch gears that quickly. "The . . . catharsis thing?"

Octavia didn't have even that much to go off of.

Her helpless look turned to Duke. "What?"

"No," Lucifer said. Still quiet. He touched his forehead. "He's-- losing control."

Duke sat up, eyes wide, but managed not to let go. "Of his god powers?!"

"How does that work?"

Lucifer let out a desperate laugh. "I don't know," he said. "But the singing and the dancing, He just couldn't-- stop Himself."

His gaze skittered over the furniture as he slowly dragged himself back into this moment. It landed on Octavia at last.

She was solid.

"I dunno man, that sounds like poor impulse control to me. Which would explain a lot. . . ."

He maybe needed to stop trying to make light of this.

While they were talking to a tear-streaked Devil? Yeah, maybe.

But Octavia was glad to just have Lucifer's eyes meet hers. She reached for his hand.

"That's bad, right?" she murmured. "It sounds bad."

"It sounded like-- divine dementia," Lucifer said.

A few hours from now, he'd begin to do what he did best: rationalize what was going on, and find something to do, however ridiculous it might look.

But right now he was just trying to process the impossible.

He reached for her hand at almost the same time she did his, clasping it between both of his palms.

Look, Duke had a certain number of coping mechanisms, and way too many of them involved making light of things.

And he wasn't sure he'd ever seen Lucifer cry before.

"Dementia," he repeated. "Can that -- happen?"

"Apparently," Octavia muttered faintly.

Still watching Lucifer's face.

"I don't know! He's the first-- Him that's ever lived," Lucifer said. He was almost grateful for that frustration right there; it gave him something else to focus on but shock.

As did pulling Octavia into him.

"That's. . . ." Duke trailed of. He didn't have any words for how phenomenally terrifying the implications of that for Lucifer's world was.

(Lucifer's world, which had at least a certain metaphysical crossover with his own, since people from Haven had run into Lucifer in Hell. . . .)

So he just leaned into Lucifer again. Leaned his head against his. Tried to think of what they could possibly do about God losing control of his godliness.

Octavia got out of her crouch and finally joined them properly. Lucifer hadn't been pulling her to him in days and she would not do a single thing to discourage him from doing it now.

They could be a pile. That might help something.

Lucifer had honestly forgotten that he'd been keeping them at a distance for good reason these past few weeks. He needed them; that was all he could think about.

He let go of Octavia's hand and slid his arms around their waists.

And Duke was going to go out on a limb. Take advantage of Lucifer not pushing them away to say something he'd wanted to for awhile now.

"You're not getting rid of us," he said softly. "Whatever happens. With your dad. With -- with Chloe. With you."

Octavia burrowed close. Which was in itself her showing her agreement with Duke's words.

"What he said," she murmured anyway, in an echo of all the times Duke had backed her in the past several days.

Lucifer let out a quiet sigh and contemplated ignoring all that in favor of just... soaking them in.

"No reason to worry about the Detective," he murmured.

“Not really my point,” Duke said. “But good to know.”

Octavia didn't want to ask.

And yet she couldn't help doing it anyway. Just a sigh, a breath: "Why?"

"I talked to her," Lucifer said.

(Telling them this was grounding now, for whatever reason.)

"Told her that I don't-- have the capacity to make choices from my heart," he mumbled. "But that if I have to choose with the rest of me, if none of you will leave me alone, then the two of you are the only choice."

Duke didn't believe for a moment that Lucifer couldn't follow his heart. He just maybe didn't know how to listen.

"Good," was all he said though. "I, for one, am happy with whatever part is doing the choosing."

Octavia said nothing. Her throat suddenly felt too tight for her to do that.

And as she pulled back just enough to see Lucifer's face, she was trying really hard to blink away the way she could feel her eyes try to well up.

Look, people didn't always choose her.

Lucifer saw it.

"Oh, don't do that," he said softly, and pressed his lips against her forehead, tightening his arm around Duke.

"Tavi?" Duke asked, picking his head up to peer around Lucifer.

Oh, did everyone need to see her face crumbling?

Octavia squeezed her eyes shut tight, but of course that just forced a tear or two down onto her cheek.

She'd get a hold of herself in a second here, guys. Promise.

Lucifer let out a soft, broken little sigh. He'd only managed to put a few bricks back together, not anything approaching a wall; this was just unfair.

"I just," he mumbled.

"It's okay," Duke said. He could be the one who was keeping it together for the three of them this time. "We'll figure all this out together."

Octavia reached out blindly for Duke's hand.

And tried to tilt her face up to kiss Lucifer, while he was forgetting about his stupid wall.

Lucifer kissed her. How could he not?

It didn't last long.

"Can't go home yet," he mumbled as he broke away, "But I think I'd like to go to bed now."

(To cling to them while he still let himself.)

"Bed," Duke agreed. "Want us to bring the food along? Or we can save it for the morning."

"I brought cake," Octavia muttered, somewhere by Lucifer's cheek.

She hadn't meant to take credit. Had wanted it to seem like the cake had just happened.

"I like cake," Lucifer mumbled.

He brushed her hair aside and kissed her forehead.

"Let's bring the food and deal with everything else tomorrow," he said. "Please."

Let him pretend with what felt like the only real thing he had.

"Good." Duke gave him an extra squeeze, then slowly pulled away, letting his hand linger on Lucifer as long as possible even as he started gathering up the dinner bags again. "We'll have dinner and cake in bed. Anything else will happen when it happens."

Octavia had been slower about joining them, and now she was slower to pull away, too.

But at least it freed up her hands for wiping at her eyes, when she did.

Everything was okay. Right now. He could let himself believe that.

Lucifer's hand wound up on her wrist, and the other on Duke's hip, and as soon as the bags were gathered he trailed as closely to the bedroom as they let him without removing his hands.

As closely as they let him? Octavia would have let him carry her if he'd tried. Hell, might even have tried to carry him.

Yes, he could be as close as he wanted to.

And once they got all their food settled on the bed, and themselves, Octavia was going right back to crowding his space.

When you gave her a chance, she took it.

Lucifer wrapped his arms around her, letting her take that chance. He snuggled back into Duke (and thought about the look on Father's face) and stopped moving.

He could eat food. At some point. For now he'd linger on the comfort of their bodies until the daze left him. Whenever it did.

Edited 2021-07-15 18:42 (UTC)

Lucifer's Loft, Los Angeles, Saturday

Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Re: Bedroom

Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft

Re: Loft