my_own_advocate | Lucifer's Loft, Los Angeles, Saturday

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Lucifer's Loft, Los Angeles, Saturday

Yesterday had been a ~~still being played out~~ day full of musical numbers and Dad and a woman murdering her judgemental referee husband for entirely understandable reasons. Lucifer had gone to bed entirely wiped, tired, too exhausted to remember he shouldn't be naked with Duke and Octavia.

He was still in that bed, sleeping more comfortably than he had in a week.

Unaware of the man hovering by the edge of the bed with a large tray full of breakfast foods in his hands.

[[ for those two and once again taken from Lucifer 5x10! ]]

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"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.

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Lucifer's Loft, Los Angeles, Saturday

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