my_own_advocate | Lucifer's Penthouse, Thursday

Entry tags:

Lucifer's Penthouse, Thursday

It had been days since Dad had announced His retirement and left. Lucifer supposed he should feel relieved by now, or elated. Dad was... vacating their lives for good. And there was no doubt who His successor would be: Amenadiel, who had trained for this for his entire long celestial life.

He could admit in the privacy of his own head that Amenadiel would make a far better God than their Father had ever been.

Not for the first time in the past... month? Had it been a month? Lucifer thought about how they should be headed home. To the Rouge, and its nostalgic sailor aesthetic that, again in the privacy of his own thoughts, Lucifer could admit he sort of missed.

Perhaps it was the matter of Daniel and his well-deserved revenge that kept his thoughts so messy and his feet firmly placed within the boundaries of Los Angeles county. That had to be it. No?

Lucifer poured himself another glass of scotch and leaned against the bar, contemplating the bottles. He did still like this apartment, he mused, so there was that.

[[ expecting one, but open for phone calls ]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand 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."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject