Lucifer Morningstar (
my_own_advocate) wrote2022-04-02 08:38 am
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The Cape Rouge, Saturday Morning
Haven was even worse than all the stories. And so, after the absolute disaster that had been yesterday and its ensuing revelations and fights, Lucifer had - over Duke's initial protests and then quiet acceptance - thrown everyone into the Rolls Royce and driven them home through a bloody portal.
He'd been keeping it together quite well, all in all, he felt. Compared to both of his partners. He was good at that, occasionally, being the one who didn't fall apart at the sight of personal trauma.
So why couldn't he sleep?
He'd given up the fight at some un-Himly hour. Found himself pottering around, lurking on deck, lurking in other places, drinking. Now he was back in the galley, contemplating the last of their scotch, and the inevitability of their eventual return to Haven.
He almost missed the noise outside.
[[ for the cape rouge dwellers plus one ]]
He'd been keeping it together quite well, all in all, he felt. Compared to both of his partners. He was good at that, occasionally, being the one who didn't fall apart at the sight of personal trauma.
So why couldn't he sleep?
He'd given up the fight at some un-Himly hour. Found himself pottering around, lurking on deck, lurking in other places, drinking. Now he was back in the galley, contemplating the last of their scotch, and the inevitability of their eventual return to Haven.
He almost missed the noise outside.
[[ for the cape rouge dwellers plus one ]]
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Instead, he’d slept fitfully in the bed, waking over and over from stressed, helpless dreams, only to shift or roll over and fall immediately back to sleep for more. He noticed each of them getting up, but they blended into the dreams until he lost track of where he was, what was real.
And of course, what morning after being possessed would be complete without a bout of sleep paralysis?
Duke finally came properly awake with a gasp, rolling immediately out of bed and stumbling blindly to the bathroom to — something. Splash water on his face maybe. Or scream and throw up.
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Lucifer just gave her a helpless shrug. He didn't know, either. (Whatever energy he had to put into figuring out what to do about Duke was still pouring into repressing everything that had happened.)
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He stopped, squinting at Rory. Several things occurred to him to say, but they were mostly curses, so he kept silent for now.
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But, well. Rory had just said 'dad' and not meant Lucifer and this was the moment she realized she had just been assuming Rory was just hers and Lucifer's, and it -- it kind of scared her, somehow, that she'd thought that without questioning.
She darted a quick look towards Duke, now.
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"--Either spoilers or totally unnecessary info," Rory said.
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She was theirs. He was just . . . extraneous Dad.
At least she wouldn't have a trouble.
"Right," he said after a long moment. His voice was hoarse and tight. ". . . So. Coffee?"
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She didn't sound much better, and was already escaping back into her slow task of using her non-dominant hand.
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Just... taking a wild stab at whatever that look meant.
She walked into the kitchen without waiting for anyone else to respond. "This is so freaking weird."
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He'd technically done this a couple times before, but this one was older. And . . . ill-timed.
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It was kinda fucked up, seeing them like this. The parents she knew were a decade and a half past this point, and much more stable.
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Just about done with her fruit.
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Stared at her fruit and tried not to think about how she and Lucifer had handled it.
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But was for sure how he really wanted to handle being possessed, too.
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Rory rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I like punching things better. And music."
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She went to put her discarded pieces of the inedible bits of fruit in the trash, because there was nothing there she should comment on.
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(No one had ever made her use a swear jar in her life, no.)
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Yeah.
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That was all him.
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He really needed that coffee.
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