my_own_advocate | Lucifer's Penthouse, Thursday

Duke came in from the balcony when he saw movement inside. He’d been looking through local boat listings, seeing if there was one he wanted to get for himself.

It was weirdly hard. He hadn’t been nearly this picky when he bought the Sanguine Moon up in Haven. Maybe it was the wealth of choice.

(Or maybe “buy a boat” wasn’t an answer to his discomfort staying in LA after all.)

He came over to give Lucifer a kiss good morning. “There any coffee, babe?”

"Yes, and it's finally stopped tasting like caramel unicorn frapuccino," Lucifer said, smiling absently at the kiss.

"LA loves its sparkles," Duke said, brushing his thumb across Lucifer's cheek. "How you doing?"

"More like Dad loves them," Lucifer said. The touch of Duke's hand had him looking up.

He looked thoughtful; he'd be surprised if anyone pointed out that his expression had also softened over the past moment. "I'm fine," he said, with a tone that matched that look. "Just enjoying my day without Father wandering in to cause some new disaster, I suppose."

Duke nodded, taking the moment of quiet as a chance to really look at Lucifer for a little while. Remind himself that, even as difficult as this relationship could be at times, he wouldn't give it up for the world.

Even God himself couldn't come between them, after all.

"Pretty sure Linda would want to ask if you were really okay, or just thought you should be," he said, gently amused. "I definitely enjoying not worrying about your dad walking in on us at any moment too, though."

Lucifer snorted softly. "He really did have the worst possible timing every single time," he said.

He took a sip of his drink, then looked back up at Duke. Somehow at the start of all this, he'd assumed it would get easier to distance himself, not harder, and yet. There his hand went, cupping Duke's cheek like he had no control over it.

"I'm just... adjusting to a new reality," he said. (He hadn't told them about Dad's retirement yet. He was wondering whether it would actually matter if he did. It wasn't like they were any of his siblings and could actually do anything with the information.)

Nothing but be sounding boards for any of Lucifer's frustration or questions about it, anyway.

"One where your dad actually shows up," Duke said. "You know, I have some experience with new realities."

Like realizing he was troubled. Like finding out what that trouble was.

"You know, if you want to talk about it."

And oh, look, that hand was pushing back some of Duke's hair behind his ear, instead. Ridiculous.

"Dad's... not just leaving," Lucifer said slowly. "He's retiring."

Duke blinked. Frowned. (He'd been doing a lot of both lately.)

". . . He can do that?"

Did that mean there just. Wouldn't be a God in this universe anymore?

"Apparently," Lucifer said, returning his attention to his glass. "He wants Amenadiel and I to keep the news to ourselves, so I assume He's actually scarpered to prepare the Silver City for my brother's impending ascension."

"So . . . Amenadiel is going to be the new God."

Duke wasn't sure what he thought of that. Sure, he liked Amenadiel well enough, but he'd just had a kid. Did that mean that Charlie would take over after him? Would Linda become, like . . . Queen God?

"Yeah, I can see how this is messing with your head a bit."

It sure was with Duke's.

"I assume so. Father hasn't said, but, well, Amenadiel has been preparing for this since we were all running about in angel nappies, and if he doesn't want it getting out past us..."

He shrugged and took a sip.

"Well . . . sure. What if someone else wanted to take the gig? Could you imagine?"

"Yes, that's just what we'd need to cap off this entire... disastrous month," Lucifer muttered, "A war for the heavenly throne."

A month. Had they really been here that long? (Had they only been here that long?)

"Think we're going to need another vacation after all this?"

"I think... we," Lucifer said, using that word gingerly, and at the same time, finding himself surprised it came so easily at all, "May need to just spend an entire year naked on an island somewhere."

"Might get a little boring after awhile. But I like that instinct."

He really liked how Lucifer hadn't outright denied that there'd be a "we".

"Well, obviously when we get bored, we get on our boat and go to another island," Lucifer said, sipping more scotch.

"Right." Duke smiled broadly, shifting to rest his arm around Lucifer's waist. "Silly me."

Should he mention that he was looking for a boat in LA? Or would Lucifer try to insist on buying it for him?

(Was it really important that he buy it himself? Damn Linda, making him question things.)

Lucifer let him. Might have almost, maybe, kind of, leaned into that a little.

"It is going to be a rather new universe without Him in charge," he said. "A better one, if I know Amenadiel."

Duke hummed non-noncommittally. "I hope so." He considered what to say next carefully. He knew he needed to clear the air a bit about Lucifer's whole 'I can't love you back', but they felt so easy right now. Lucifer felt present with him, but it was fragile. Like he might spook at any moment.

"I'm glad you're talking about staying with us," he said finally, voice soft. "You scared us, you know."

Lucifer sighed. "Well, you've made it rather clear what your position is," he said. "And I am, selfishly, not particularly eager to do anything more drastic to change our situation, so..."

He made a helpless gesture with his glass.

Duke snorted softly.

"What exactly about letting me get my way is 'selfish'?"

"Because I'm not worth it," Lucifer said.

The whole 'can't love you' thing had sort of started to morph and crystallize into that ancient, long-held belief.

"Bullshit," Duke said gently. "Take it from someone who's been on that whole roller coaster before. When someone tells you you're worth it, believe them."

Lucifer let out a soft huff. It sounded a little wry, or perhaps desperate, around the edges.

"Can I tell you something?" Duke asked. "Without you freaking out?"

"Well, that's not a forboding opening at all," Lucifer muttered. He looked at Duke. "By all means."

"Or telling me I don't know what I'm talking about," Duke said, realizing that that might be a bigger issue at this precise moment. Then he took a breath, hanging on a little tighter to Lucifer's waist, and dove in.

"I've been with people who didn't love me. Who couldn't, maybe. I know what that looks like." He caught Lucifer's eye and held it as long as he could. "You are not one of them."

Making him promise not to freak out up front was rude, Duke. Because that limited Lucifer to that sigh, and an attempt at an evasive glance at literally anything else that failed because whoever had given you those eyes was evil, Crocker.

Nah. Not these eyes. The silver ones, sure. But not these.

"You don't have to believe me yet," Duke said. "Octavia gave me that room, so I'm going to give it to you. But you -- we -- are loveable and loving. No matter who our parents are. Or what they did to us." He offered Lucifer a small smile. "And frankly, you trying to say otherwise is starting to piss me off."

Well past starting. But he was trying to be gentle here.

Lucifer snorted softly. He closed his eyes - the only defense he had here. That, and the question he'd asked Octavia, the one without an answer.

"Then why do I keep feeling this way?" Unworthy. Incapable.

"Because your parents fucked up," Duke said simply. He tipped his head up to kiss Lucifer again, softly on the forehead. Like a benediction. "They never showed you what love is, so you don't know how to recognize it. All you've got is movies and TV and they're liars." He rested his forehead on Lucifer's, watching him from up close. "Trust me, Luce. I'm still learning, but I've been where you are right now. It's terrifying. But I think, maybe . . . that's what makes it better, in the end."

He should have something to say to that, shouldn't he? Something more profound than the kneejerk 'no, you're wrong' that wanted to come out. The one he'd been swallowing over and over again, with Duke, with Octavia, with Linda, with Chloe.

But Lucifer had nothing. Nothing besides a gut full of squirming, incoherent, self-defeating emotion.

They were all useless. Likely to blow something up. To make Duke stalk off the way Octavia had. Bar maybe one, that fluttered up like a butterfly in some poor doomed woman's box.

He tilted his head just so and caught Duke's lips with his own.

Duke hadn't known what to expect, jumping into all that. But it wasn't this.

(He hadn't dared to expect this. Or even hope for it.)

There was maybe a moment's pause, of just receiving, before he dove into kissing Lucifer back. Putting everything he still didn't know how to say into gripping Lucifer's hips, into gently sucking on Lucifer's lower lip.

Lucifer could love, Duke was certain of that. And Lucifer was loved, quite thoroughly, in return.

Lucifer didn't know what else to do. Octavia walking out on him had hurt, as much as it had felt deserved. He didn't want it to happen again, not now. That was unfair, too, because Duke was expressing all this faith in him he still (knew) wasn't sure he deserved.

It had just been such a long month and he was tired.

His fingers wound into Duke's hair, pulling the man closer into him.

And Duke, hopeless romantic that he was deep down inside, felt like this was a victory. Even if he knew that Lucifer wasn't totally convinced just yet.

So he let out a soft moan as Lucifer's fingers brushed his scalp, encouraging him -- then pulling back. Just a little. Just enough to get a breath and tease: "Your dad's for sure not about to just show up again, right?"

Lucifer snorted softly. (He'd missed Duke.) "He's absolutely for certain back upstairs for now, yes."

"Good," Duke said. And dove back in to show Lucifer just how much he'd missed him back.

Lucifer wasn't entirely sure when he'd wound up with his back pressed against the bar counter and his fingers tight in Duke's hair and shirt, but he wasn't surprised by it. He and Octavia had always been slow and deliberate.

With Duke, on the other hand...

Well, it took this brief moment of surprise at the feel of the counter digging into his back to remember that he should probably stop the hand in Duke's shirt before it made it all the way to the button of Duke's trousers.

This time he was the one who pulled back a fraction of an inch, panting, dazed.

Duke blinked. Why had Lucifer stopped?

"You okay?" he asked.

There had been a lot of kissing, which would be Lucifer's only explanation for what he said next, which was, "Just need a moment to keep from bending you over the bar."

Stupid sexy Duke.

Duke smirked. "You know I don't mind being bent over."

"Ngh, I mean, yes," Lucifer said (why was it suddenly so hard to remember why this was a really bad idea?). "But, uh."

Duke smirked harder at that grunt -- but then it faded at the further hesitation. Duke pulled back. Not all the way away, but back, so that he was loosely holding Lucifer's waist instead of holding himself against him.

"Ah." He nodded. "Okay. We don't have to -- we can take it slow."

Lucifer stared at him helplessly.

It had been a month of abstinence and strain and tension and he had no bloody clue where he and Octavia stood at the moment. He still didn't feel any more worthy, or any less guilty. But Duke had wedged the tiniest crack in his chest open, and apparently that had been enough for this small, temporary thing.

This small, temporary, yet utterly complete short in an otherwise persistently loud part of his mind.

He scooped Duke off his feet.

Duke let out a startled, delighted laugh. There were not many people in this world who could just scoop him up like that. He lifted his legs to replace his arms around Lucifer's waist, and instead wrapped them around his neck.

And leaned in for more of those kisses.

This time, Lucifer let him have as many kisses as he wanted. They helped stretch out that pleasant silence in his mind, kept the overthinking from rushing right back in to fill the void.

Besides, it had been a while since he'd gotten to show off how much experience he had in carrying someone to his bedroom while kissing them. Even the stairs barely gave him any pause.

He didn't stop until he could actually physically drop Duke onto the bed.

Duke laughed again as he bounced onto the mattress, then reached for Lucifer.

Octavia said that love was in action, not in words. And Duke would happily show Lucifer -- and let him show him -- just how much love there was in this loft, this morning.

It was a little bit quick. Maybe more than a little bit urgent. While Duke and Octavia had found the time to enjoy each other earlier in the week, he and Lucifer hadn't touched each other this way in far, far too long. Afterwards, when they were both sprawled on the mattress, Duke let himself continue to touch, drawing lazy patterns on Lucifer's arm with his finger.

(He still hadn't figured out his Lucifer tattoo, yet. He didn't have quite the same set of easy nicknames to choose from as Octavia had, after all.)

Lucifer stared up at the ceiling, listening to his own breathing as it slowed back down. Trying to stave off the return of intrusive thoughts and the instincts he knew-- hurt Octavia before. It didn't quite work.

And so the feeling of Duke's fingers on him went from unequivocally good to-- he wasn't sure.

He shifted. A little. Dragged his gaze away from the ceiling, down to Duke's face.

"Well," he said.

Duke felt the shift, though he couldn't have consciously said when it happened or how. (He was pretty sure he knew why, though.)

"Is this the part where we're supposed to clutch the sheet to our chest and stare at the ceiling like we're in a sitcom?" he teased, trying to find that easy place again.

At least that earned a huff that sounded like a laugh.

"I believe we'd both have to be vastly deeper in the closet for that to land."

"Have you ever been even a little bit in the closet?" Duke asked, propping his head up on his hand so he could look at Lucifer properly.

(He was such a beautiful man. If Duke had to give God credit for anything, it was how exquisitely he'd crafted his angels.)

(Or maybe that was their self-actualizing. Maybe Duke didn't have to give God any credit for that, either.)

See, now they were just... Bantering. That wasn't so terrifying. (And there was no reason to examine the warmth he felt at Duke's gaze too closely.)

"Well, the first person I slept with was Eve," Lucifer said thoughtfully. "The second was Adam, so... A few hours to a day on a technicality?"

“Nope,” Duke decided. “Doesn’t count. Being closeted involves actually hiding things.”

"Then no," Lucifer said, as he looked up at Duke and contemplated the cons of touching him again. "Yourself?"

“Yeah,” Duke said. “It was Maine in the 90s. In a town that already hated me.” He shrugged. “Never did really officially come out back then. Just — stopped bothering to deny any rumors. Never actually stopped them, anyway. By then the dickheads who might’ve tried something were either too afraid of me or too busy buying contraband from me to give me much shit.”

Lucifer let out a soft huff.

Oops. His fingers were on Duke's cheek again.

"How did you figure yourself out?" he said. Added, teasing: "Outwit a bully under the bleachers?"

Duke was quiet for a long moment, eyes distant. He let out a soft sigh and lay back down, resting his head on Lucifer's shoulder.

"I fell in love with Nathan when we were eight. Wasn't really much to figure out from there."

Lucifer let out a soft huff. Carefully, hesitantly, he slid his arm behind Duke's shoulders. He pressed a kiss against Duke's temple. "Incorrigible," he murmured.

Somewhere in all the drama of the past month, he'd somehow forgotten the reality of how much he enjoyed Duke's company.

Duke let out a tiny chuckle. "I was a full on cliche," he said. "Pulling his proverbial pigtails until he hated me." A brief silence. "I had to do something to cover, after carrying him to the hospital when he broke his arm."

An eight year old, carrying an eight year old. It shouldn't have worked, but the troubles were active, and Nathan had been bleeding. . . .

"Dad was being weird by then. Started leaving for days, then coming home all beat up. Making me take care of him. I don't know, maybe that's why I latched onto Nathan so hard. And." He swallowed. "And Lucy, when she showed up. I didn't have the people I was supposed to."

He hadn't meant to get into any of this. It wasn't exactly sexy talk. But Lucifer had gotten him thinking about Nathan, and talking to Linda had gotten him evaluating everything in his head, looking for extra reasons behind everything he said or did, and it all just started spilling out.

Sexy talk was fleeting, anyway. A distraction.

This, not so much.

Lucifer didn't even realize he'd started stroking his fingers gently along Duke's shoulder somewhere in the middle. "Looking for someone to replace that?"

"I guess," Duke said. "Lucy at least seemed to care what happened to me. None of the other adults ever did. To them I was just that Crocker kid whose mom ran out on him." He let out a soft laugh. (Why does that make you laugh?) "Of course, then there was a dead guy on a beach and an entire morning that went missing and Lucy just. Wasn't around anymore. And Dad was dead and Nathan hated me because I'd been such a dick to him, and I was just. That Crocker kid. Who loved the wrong people and was never loved back."

"How long did that go on?" Lucifer asked quietly.

Another long moment of silence.

"Well," Duke said, tone ironically light. (Why does that make you laugh?) "Eventually I wasn't a kid anymore."

Lucifer exhaled softly.

He wasn't thinking of should-haves and but-I-am-nots at all as he pulled Duke a little closer into himself, his arm wrapping around the man's waist.

Duke let him, burrowing into his side almost. Enjoying Lucifer's warmth instead of his heat, as he'd done when they were having sex.

"I don't know exactly what you're going through," he said, mostly into Lucifer's shoulder. "But I know a version of it. So, uh. Just know it's not permanent. Okay?"

Lucifer sighed quietly. "Have I ever," he said slowly. "Have I ever told you about my sister Azrael?"

Duke shifted his head without lifting it, peering up at Lucifer through his lashes. "I don't think so?"

"She's the Angel of Death, but don't let that fool you. None of us got to choose which parts Dad wanted us to play in Creation at the start," Lucifer said, looking up at the ceiling. "She was... probably my best friend when we were young. We used to," he laughed softly, "we used to play the best pranks on Amenadiel. Run circles around him."

"The Devil and the Angel of Death," Duke said, smiling. "That sounds kind of adorable."

Once you knew the Devil for awhile, it was easy to decide the Angel of Death could be cute, too.

"I called her Rae-Rae," Lucifer admitted. "And she... She was the first person who called me by the name I actually chose, and not the one Dad had decided for me."

"Everyone should have someone like that," Duke said. He wondered briefly why he hadn't met this person before, but -- if she was the Angel of Death, she had to be pretty busy, right?

Lucifer mouth curved. Briefly.

"She remained neutral during my rebellion," he said, his voice quieting. "And then... the next time I saw her was... weeks before I came here for the first time. She'd been busy, she said. For thousands upon thousands of years."

Duke sucked in a wincing breath through his teeth.

"I'm sorry."

"It was like that with all of them," Lucifer said quietly. "Even the ones who helped me during the rebellion, they pulled their hands away. Kept their head down."

"Your whole community," Duke said, soft and low. "Well. No wonder you're fucked up."

"For years I convinced myself I thought it was everyone else's fault, but... well."

Duke had been there to see him when he'd realized otherwise.

"I mean. I'm happy to blame your dad for that one," Duke said. "I mean, he is the great orchestrater of celestial drama, right?"

Lucifer snorted softly. "I suppose so," he said. "If He'd just talked to us on occasion, we wouldn't all be milling around in the dark, trying to do whatever we felt He did - or didn't - want us to do. But that's not what I was getting at, I just..."

He swallowed.

"I just want to stop hurting you," he said, "To not... make another colossal mistake one way or another."

"Is that what you think happened back then?" Duke asked. "You made a mistake and Azrael and the others stopped talking to you?"

"Yes?" Lucifer said, his eyes flicking back to Duke's. A little helpless. "No? Maybe."

"Dude." Duke shook his head fondly. "You are so fucked in the head."

He pressed a kiss to Lucifer's shoulder.

"I don't really know enough angels to say if that's true or not. And I'm not dumb enough to promise I won't be dumb enough to try to leave sometime in the future, though I'm going to go ahead and guess that'll be because I mess up, not you. But -- man. You gotta let go. You were the celestial equivalent of an idiot teenager back then." Which he knew, because he'd met said idiot teenager when he'd been an idiot teenager. "You've grown."

Lucifer huffed softly. He looked at Duke. "Second chances, hm?"

"And third, and fourth. . . ." Duke trailed off meaningfully. "How many have you given me, now? I messed up just asking you out."

Lucifer snorted. "You are a bit of an idiot," he agreed.

But that brief hint of snarky mockery faded quickly. He reached up, cupped Duke's cheek.

"Look, I have-- no idea if I will ever feel..." He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. "...But you are one of the best things that has ever happened to me."

When Duke had fallen in love with Nathan, he'd conspired to stick tacks in his back. His total shit show of suggesting their current arrangement had been progress. With Octavia, she'd just kind of decided they were a thing and he agreed, after all. Come to think of it, that was how they'd both ended up moving onto his boat, too. . . .

"I feel the same way," Duke said. "Whether you end up feeling. . . ." He did a small approximation of Lucifer's sucked in breath. ". . . Or not."

Lucifer sighed, eyes closed. "This is such a bloody mess," he muttered.

He kissed Duke.

With warmth, as the man would say, not heat.

Well. That saved Duke from having to sigh at Lucifer's assessment.

Yes, the stuff with God? Giant "bloody mess". The thing with Lucifer trying and failing to pull away from them?

Duke thought that was really pretty simple, actually.

It would have helped if Duke had put in some kind of effort to let him pull away, all right?

As opposed to whatever he'd been doing that led to this-- situation with Duke sprawled half on top of him and his arms around the idiot.

Lucifer looked fairly lost as he pulled away just a fraction. "You-- hm."

It was called "being there". At least in Duke's opinion. It was the same instinct that had him showing up at a crime scene mere days after being manipulated into position to murder someone for the first time.

Once Duke decided you were one of his people, it could be very hard to get him to let go.

"Hm?"

"..."

Lucifer looked up at him.

"...Whoever designed your eyes was an evil genius." Beat. "I mean, the current ones."

“You and your ‘intelligent design’. What makes you think my eyes aren’t a happy accident?”

"Because they're entirely too pretty," Lucifer informed him. Which was clearly unfair!

... and a good way to try and hoist himself from that spluttering moment of vulnerability just now before he said something genuinely stupid.

Oh? Like maybe he had feelings?

"Mmm, you know, before you and Octavia, I'm not sure anyone ever called me pretty."

... shut up.

"Well, we've already established most people are idiots where it comes to you," Lucifer said. "I mean. Look at you."

And he did, because now he had an excuse.

"It's like someone told genetics, 'There's no way you could make anything nice out of these bit parts', and genetics went above and beyond to prove them wrong." He slid his fingers onto Duke's cheek, and then along the shape of his nose.

Well, it was good that some of it went well, because Duke was pretty sure there was still a fair amount of what he'd inherited that was pure garbage.

"Whereas I'm pretty sure you inspired any number of statues in your time. How many modern ideals are based on you showing up somewhere and throwing a really glorious party?"

"I don't know, keeping track sounds dull," Lucifer said. "I do have my fair share of gifts in the library here, however."

He kissed Duke again. As long as he was in a mindspace where he permitted himself that much-- well, he wanted to take advantage of it.

He would get no argument from Duke. He was happy enough to lie here naked with Lucifer as long as he would let him.

"You'll have to show them to me, sometime."

"Sometime," Lucifer agreed. He slid his hand away from Duke's face to draw patterns on his chest. "...Thank you," he said. "For not leaving."

His hand slid down until it found Duke's.

Duke turned his hand over to give Lucifer's a squeeze. "You'd have to try harder than that to get rid of me."

Lucifer knew that, didn't he? Why hadn't he tried harder?

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

“For what?” Duke said. He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but was hoping Lucifer would surprise him.

"Putting you through all this," Lucifer said. He gave Duke's hand a gentle squeeze.

That was better than Duke had feared it would be.

“I’m sorry your dad’s putting you through it.”

Lucifer snorted. "He has been doing that for a long time," he said.

“And I’m sorry for that, too,” Duke said. “Even if it is one of the things we bonded over.”

Lucifer sighed.

"I just don't want to be," he said slowly, "Whatever all those other people wound up being for you."

Duke hummed softly, shifting so he could look up at the ceiling without having to stop using Lucifer as a pillow.

“Okay,” he said. “So . . . don’t.”

Another snort.

"If it was that easy, we wouldn't be here, would we?"

“When did I say it would be easy?” Duke asked. “And when did you start backing down from a challenge?”

Lucifer sighed. He closed his eyes. Was silent for a while.

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

“Yeah.” Duke flicked him a smile. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

Lucifer's free hand slid up to settle against Duke's neck. He pressed a kiss to the top of Duke's head. "I don't actually want to lose you," he said quietly.

“Then don’t,” Duke said again. “Hasn’t ‘fuck you I do what I want’ always been your approach to your father?”

"It's not about that, and you know that," Lucifer said.

“Yeah.” Duke was quiet for a long moment. Then said: “He never said he didn’t love you.”

Lucifer snorted. "He said enough."

“Mmm. Or . . . maybe he’s as shitty at communicating as the rest of us.”

"Didn't you humans invent Occam's Razor for these types of situations?" Lucifer said. "What seems more likely, that Dad is a-- shitty communicator, or that he threw me into Hell, and let at least one of my siblings die, because he can't be arsed to care?"

Duke picked his head up to look Lucifer in the eye.

“That he’s a shitty communicator.”

Lucifer eyed him back. "Don't be naive."

He thought about Uriel's blood on his suit. "It's been this way all our lives. If He'd cared... Well, we wouldn't have this discussion now, would we?"

Edited 2021-07-26 00:06 (UTC)

“How many people do you know who have totally blown up their lives because they couldn’t say what they mean?”

"None who just stood by while one of their children murdered another one of their siblings when they were perfectly bloody capable of interfering," Lucifer snapped, faster than he'd anticipated.

"Woah, hey, I'm not saying you have to forgive the jackass or anything. Just -- what if this wasn't the first time he lost control of his powers? Maybe he's never been as almighty as he liked to pretend."

"Duke," Lucifer said, reaching up to press his fingers against the bridge of his nose. "Stop."

It was that or getting up to stalk around to have a drink, and tempting as that was, he was also afraid to break this moment of relative peace entirely.

Duke did, with a small, frustrated noise. He shifted onto his back again, his head on the pillow this time, though his side was still pressed against Lucifer.

Was it easier for Lucifer, somehow? Thinking he couldn’t love anyone?

"You're not listening to me," Lucifer said quietly.

Just bulldozing on ahead.

Duke looked at him, silently waiting.

"My brother Uriel came to Earth a number of years ago, when Mum was around," Lucifer said, staring up at the ceiling. "He thought he was supposed to-- deal with her. So he brought the only weapon that can kill a celestial, he found me, threatened to kill the Detective if I didn't hand over mum..."

Duke frowned. He suspected he had an idea where this was going and sincerely hoped he was wrong.

"My brother, he had the power to predict what eventual outcome would result from a single action," Lucifer said. "I tried to fight him, but he'd already forseen everything, until..."

He swallowed. "Until in the heat of our battle I stabbed him with the blade." He shut his eyes. "My little brother."

Fuck.

Duke rolled over again, this time reaching out to tug Lucifer against him. Let himself be Lucifer’s pillow, instead of the other way around.

“I’m sorry.”

Lucifer let him, though he didn't move much. Just let himself lay there, head on Duke's shoulder.

"When Dad came back, it was to break up a tussle between Amenadiel and I and Michael. Said He 'didn't want His children to fight'. Wanted us to hug it out with Michael," he said. "And failing Uriel is supposed to be 'miscommunication'?"

Duke stayed silent again for a long time, his fingers gently stroking Lucifer’s hair.

(Octavia did this too, sometimes, let him hold her but without really giving in. Duke was used to working around it.)

“You said Uriel thought he knew God’s plan.”

So . . . yes. That could be a miscommunication. One God was now trying to avoid repeating by getting personally involved.

"He wanted to protect Dad from Mum," Lucifer said quietly.

Duke nodded and stroked Lucifer’s hair.

“And you had to protect her. And Chloe.”

And God had been too busy, what, fucking around to deal with any of it.

"I'd never killed anyone before."

He didn't deserve Duke's fingers in his hair. He melted into it anyway.

Duke knew that feeling. He was pretty sure saying so wouldn’t help.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

"It's my Hell loop," Lucifer said, staring up at the ceiling. "Stabbing Uriel over and over again."

Duke did his best to wrap himself fully around Lucifer like a blanket.

“And you blame your dad.”

"It wouldn't be my Hell loop if I didn't blame myself," Lucifer said, leaning into him. He didn't have the strength not to. "But I do blame Dad for caring so little for Uri. For either of us, really. My brother didn't need to be dead."

Another long silence from Duke. This might be a record!

“Luce. What . . . what do you think love is?”

It was an honest question, not at all rhetorical. One Duke wondered if he should ask himself too.

Something other people had?

Lucifer was silent for a little while.

And then a while longer.

"... I don't know," he said. "I assume I will if I'd ever run into it."

“You might not,” Duke said gently. “I didn’t.”

Lucifer sighed.

"What would you say it is, then?"

Dammit, Lucifer, turning the question back on him.

“It’s. It’s not perfect,” he said. “Or easy. And it’s not a — a constant thing. It’s more. . . . It’s. . . . Fuck.”

He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“It’s — feeling like you want to die if they go away. But letting them anyway, because it’s what they need to do. It’s giving someone what they need, even when it’s not what you want.”

Of course Duke would equate love with sacrifice.

Lucifer's brow crinkled. "Well, that sounds unpleasant," he commented.

“It hurts sometimes,” Duke agreed. “But — when they love you back? It’s amazing. You feel like you can take on anything.”

Lucifer's thoughts darted to a moment long-past, Chloe's forehead against his. This is real, isn't it?

"Hm," he said.

“It’s easy to get wrong,” Duke said. “Even when you’re trying your hardest not to. It’s hard to know when to help and when to let go.”

And, he didn’t say, maybe your dad got it wrong.

"Hm," Lucifer said again.

He slung an arm around Duke and curled further into him. Thinking.

“I get it wrong all the time,” Duke said quietly. “I’ve hurt you and Octavia so many times. But it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

That acute feeling, that I'm incapable of love, had been ground down and dispersed into a general feeling of unworthiness over the past few weeks. It made it harder to attack that conviction in particular, because it was no longer vivid and acute and solitary.

If it had been, still, this might have broken that thought.

Now it was just one part of a confusing maelstrom of self-hating thoughts. They had always come so easy to him, under that big blanket of denial.

He pressed a kiss against Duke's neck.

"I don't deserve you," he said softly. "But I want to."

“Well,” Duke said, his hands shifting from stroking Lucifer’s hair to massaging his scalp. “That’s probably a good start.”

Lucifer let out a soft huff and pressed his face into Duke's chest.

He-- felt something, tight and warm and painful, and his arm curled up more to press Duke against him, in as much as it was even possible to get him closer.

Duke bent his dead forward to kiss Lucifer on top of his head.

“I got you, babe,” he said. “Even if you don’t think you deserve it.”

"I know," Lucifer said, voice soft. "You ridiculous do-gooder."

He sucked in a loud breath. "I just want to be able to return the favor."

“You think you haven’t?” Duke asked. “You pulled me out of the duck pond and dragged me home even while I was screaming someone else’s name.”

"I know, I just... I don't know if I've done enough," Lucifer said, staring at the few patches of Duke's skin he could see in his current position.

"It's not like that," Duke said. "You help me be a better me. All the time. And I try to do the same for you."

Lucifer let out a long, ragged sigh and shut his eyes. He wasn't sure if that was true, but he was too emotionally exhausted after the past few weeks to figure out whether he wanted to argue.

"Duke?" he asked quietly.

Duke massaged his head again. “Yeah, babe?”

"I need to see this through, but..." Lucifer hesitated.

He really shouldn't be asking for this.

"After, can we just go back to our boat?"

Duke couldn’t hide how he relaxed at that, not with Lucifer so close.

“Fuck yeah. I’d really like that.”

"All right," Lucifer said.

Very little made sense right now. Except for the boat.

The Rouge was good like that.

“Just let us know when you’re ready.”

Lucifer took a deep breath. "Once Dad's retired and Amenadiel has the reins," he murmured. "Unless He decides to take His bloody time, I suppose."

“If he does, I swear to —“ Duke bit back a laugh. “Your dad makes me rethink some of my favorite phrases.”

"Imagine what it's been like for me hearing you humans moan 'oh god' in bed," Lucifer bemoaned.

He brushed a kiss against the center of Duke's chest.

Duke shuddered theatrically. “Well, I promise to try to only moan your name if I feel like thanking a celestial from now on.”

"Thank you," Lucifer said, and stretched up just a bit to kiss Duke properly.

By which he meant slowly, and full of gratitude.

“Which Duke returned in kind, running his hands in slow circles along Lucifer’s spine.

"I say we stay in bed a little while longer," Lucifer murmured.

He felt a little less broken, and he was terrified of losing that feeling if he left the bed.

“I can stay as long as you need.”

Lucifer made an amused noise. It was soft, but noticable. "Oh, so you can take it or leave it," he teased, brushing another kiss against Duke's mouth.

“Well. I’m not saying I won’t enjoy it too.”

"Good," Lucifer said. "You deserve nice things."

Like kissing, apparently.

Lucifer deserved them, too. But Duke had a feeling he wasn't in a mode to hear that.

So Duke let his lips do the talking for him. And his hands. Keeping things slow and easy without relenting a bit.

Lucifer's Penthouse, Thursday

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