The Cape Rouge, Saturday Morning

[my_own_advocate]

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 ]]

Comments

[betterthanaplan]

"Uhhhh . . . not well," Duke admitted. He leaned back against the counter, taking his weight off his bad leg, and watched her pour. Watched Octavia out of the corner of his eye. "Mostly by repressing, which I've heard is not a super great way to do it."

But was for sure how he really wanted to handle being possessed, too.

[my_own_advocate]

"Repressing is emotionally unhealthy and leads to later outbursts as the feelings try to work their way to the surface," Lucifer, who was the only one here succesfully repressing his feelings to the point of having some level of executive functioning and was ergo due for an outburst sometime later, said.

Rory rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I like punching things better. And music."

[okteiviakom]

Octavia's chest felt all tight, at that.

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.

[betterthanaplan]

"Punching and music." Duke smiled faintly. (Mmm, repression.) "You are definitely Tavi's kid."

[swisflapa]

"Or am I?" Rory said, trying at levity as she walked towards the table with the coffee. "Be pretty fucked up if I lied about that."

(No one had ever made her use a swear jar in her life, no.)

[okteiviakom]

For neither language, even, probably. Not that Octavia was thinking about that. She was thinking about... punches.

Yeah.

[betterthanaplan]

"Yes," Duke decided. "Yes it would. And that sense of humor . . ."

That was all him.

[swisflapa]

"Is my own badass creation," Rory said, spreading her arms and making a faux-bow to her audience. "Thank you so much."

[betterthanaplan]

“Ah, of course. Silly me.”

He really needed that coffee.

[swisflapa]

"Just making sure you know," Rory said, with a totally unnecessary flourish.

That flourish also ended in presenting him with the coffee.

[betterthanaplan]

Oh look. Duke’s own sense of performative drama.

His head hurt.

“Thanks,” he said, and took a long sip. “So.”

He was, for once, at a loss for words. He’d barely felt prepared to deal with Octavia and Lucifer this morning, much less a strange teenager who was so clearly theirs.

[okteiviakom]

Yeah. She was, wasn't she?

Octavia watched them, but out of the corner of her eye. As if in secret.

[swisflapa]

"So you guys look like you need a reaaaally long nap and maybe a personal masseuse for the rest of the day?" Rory suggested.

"Yes," Lucifer said, reaching for the last bit of scotch in his glass. "Yes, I'd say that's accurate."

[betterthanaplan]

Duke hummed and sipped his coffee.

He was thinking about maybe hiding in the sauna or pillow room or something.

Or maybe sailing his new boat to China.

[okteiviakom]

Octavia hadn't escaped onto the Samsara, so he wasn't allowed to sail to China. Those were the rules.

Even if Octavia was just as quiet as he was. Just, eating her fruit instead of drinking coffee.

[swisflapa]

Rory slid back into the booth, pressing herself up against Lucifer's still-uneasy side. "I can do something else for the rest of the day, if you want," she said.

"Don't be ridiculous," Lucifer sighed. "I'll just-- show you around the island if Octavia and Duke need a rest."

Because unlike them, he was fine.

[betterthanaplan]

Oh sure. Fleeing Haven in a fury was totally fine. As was being the first one out of bed. Totally normal Lucifer behavior.

“Not gonna kick you out,” Duke said, a bit more seriously than he intended. “You, uh.” Have any idea what she walked into? “Grow up in Fandom?”

[swisflapa]

"No," Rory said. Admitted, more like. "I've been once or twice. Heard stories."

[betterthanaplan]

Duke frowned. ". . . You don't look like you would've grown up in the Bahamas."

[okteiviakom]

"I don't think she's going to tell us where we've been," Octavia said.

Still looking at her pieces of fruit, though she was going to run out of them soon.

[swisflapa]

"Didn't I say spoilers, deimeinontu?" Rory teased. "We've chilled on the Bahamas, don't worry."

[betterthanaplan]

“Ah. Right. Spoilers.”

It didn’t do to know too much about your future. Or fate or whatever. He could just point to Hsven as proof of that, with Audrey and the barn, and Nathan’s demands to die, and the Crocker family curse —

Ah. There was the urge to scream again. Or pour his coffee down this sink and run away. Back to Haven, maybe, to desperately prove he was useful —

He refused to walk out on a kid, though.

“So . . . what do you do for fun?”

[okteiviakom]

Octavia's chest ached. First, at that endearment in Trig, and then - much more painfully - at how she could hear Duke trying.

And didn't know what to do about it. There was a distance here that she didn't know how to get over.

And oh, would you look at that?

That was the last piece of fruit she had left, and now it was gone.

[swisflapa]

"What anybody does, I guess," Rory said, with a half-shrug. She wasn't as clear on Duke's tone as Octavia was. "Watch TV, play music, wait until I'm 16 so Dad will teach me how to drive his precious Corvette which I super haven't figured out yet already..."

[betterthanaplan]

Duke had to laugh at that. “I taught myself to drive, too.” And, he guessed, had probably started teaching her by the time she was fourteen, if not earlier.

He was quiet for a long moment, watching the handful of tiny bubbles on the surface of his coffee. Trying to decide if he dared to ask what he most wanted to know.

“Are we . . . happy?”

He didn’t quite. That question would have to do.