my_own_advocate | Lucifer's Mansion, Wednesday Evening

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Lucifer's Mansion, Wednesday Evening

Octavia was back at work. Just like that. Like this was a normal week, and they'd had a normal time, and he entire world hadn't suddenly gone upside down.

Lucifer was having a harder time of it. Perhaps, though, she was right, and what he needed was some... semblance of a routine again.

So on a whim, he'd texted Duke about date night. Then he'd run off to the store to pick up supplies, and... now he was here. In the kitchen. Readying his lasagna for the oven while he waited for Duke to arrive, a bottle of wine sitting on the table.

Everything. Was fine.

[[ for him ]]

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If they all pretended that way hard enough, it would eventually be true, right?

Duke had yet to fully shake the sense of unreality that had hit him after they got back from Haven. He definitely hadn’t managed to process any of what had actually happened to him over the weekend. But he was happy, for now, to lean into pretending to be normal.

Which would be why he spent half an hour debating whether or not to wear any of the stuff he and Octavia had purchased a week and a half ago. In the end, he decided “yes”, but kept it simple. Just a pair of lacy briefs under his usual jeans and button down.

He arrived on time, pausing in the doorway to just breathe in the scent of the place.

(Had his sense of smell gotten better? Maybe? Maybe he was just hyperaware of everything right now. All he knew for sure was that the smells in here didn’t make him think of Hell, and that was absolutely fine with him.)

“Smells good,” he called, as he followed his nose to the kitchen. “Italian, huh?”

"I thought a traditional lasagna felt right for the evening," Lucifer said, closing the oven on the dish in question. "Something good and filling. Get your strength back up."

Did Duke need to get his strength up? Even Lucifer didn't know, and he was the one who'd brought him back to life in the first place.

"Right," Duke said, brows pulling together faintly.

(He actually felt better physically than he had in . . . possibly ever. He attributed it to no longer having a trouble, when he wasn't half-convinced that getting rid of all the troubles had been an hallucination.)

"Well, it smells great." He came over to offer Lucifer a kiss. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Lucifer said, leaning into it idly. "So... how are you doing. Today. In general."

Duke let out a soft huff, letting a hand trail down Lucifer's back as he took a moment to think about how to answer that.

"I have no idea," he finally said. "I think I'm fine. But I'm also pretty sure that can't be true."

"Well, if you feel that way, perhaps it is?"

If Lucifer sounded a touch hopeful, well, he had never been above self-delusion.

Or wrapping an arm around Duke's waist.

Part of Duke wanted to press the point. Was desperate to have someone outside his own head acknowledge again that he had been dead.

Because what if he hadn't? What if that, like ending the troubles, was another hallucination?

(What if he was still back there, killing troubled people at the whims of a monster, and just hiding in a fantasy in his head?)

The other part of him was happy to go along with pretending they were all fine, though.

"I'll take it," he said, leaning into Lucifer's arm. "Beats the alternative."

"Yes, I prefer you not dead and in Hell," Lucifer agreed.

As far as he knew, he hadn't picked up his Dad's power of mind reading yet. It just felt like a relevant point to make.

Duke hadn't realized he was tensed up until he felt his shoulders relax a touch.

(But if this was an hallucinatory Lucifer, of course he would say that. . . .)

Okay, that way led to white coats and padded rooms. He maybe needed to stop that.

"Yeah," he said. "I am very pro being alive and on Earth."

"And you haven't even had the misfortune of trying the alcohol in Hell," Lucifer sighed. He looked at Duke. "Speaking of," he said, "How would you feel about wine?"

Duke had expected that "speaking of" to go into something about Hell, not something about wine. He had no idea what he was feeling about the fact that it didn't.

"Wine sounds good," he said. Would his tolerances still be the same? He had no idea. He supposed he was going to find out. "And do we have any rolls or something?"

Sure, lasagna had plenty of carbohydrates on its own. But bread was traditional with Italian food, right?

"Ah! Yes."

Lucifer unwound his arm from Duke to open the bread drawer, and presented him with a bag. "Not fresh, but it'll do in a pinch."

"I live on a boat, babe," Duke teased. "'Fresh' is relative."

He took the bag and went to go set the contents out neatly on the table.

"What else do we need?"

"Butter," Lucifer said immediately, and went for the fridge. "Pour us some wine, will you?"

"On it," Duke agreed, getting the bottle to do just that. "Man, that lasagna smells good. Do you think you fixed my nose when you brought me back?"

"Was your nose broken?" Lucifer asked, as he walked to the table with the butter.

“My sense of smell’s sucked for years.” He tapped the side of his nose as he poured. “Put, uh, too much of the wrong kind of stuff up it as a kid.”

Well into his twenties, too.

"Ah," Lucifer said. He let out a breath, and then... reached for a glass of wine. "I was panicking a tad, to be entirely honest," he said. "I may or may not have just fixed... everything?"

Well, at least Duke could get out of having any endoscopies for the forseeable future.

"Hey. It means I didn't have to wake up with a sore chest from the CPR," Duke said. Joked. (It was not a good joke.) "I definitely don't mind that."

"Octavia..."

Had been rather rough about that, he didn't say.

Lucifer sighed. He sipped his drink.

"Kept my body going until you brought me back." Duke gave him a small smile. "It was a group effort, I know."

Lucifer sighed.

"I'm just glad it's over," he said.

The Haven part, at least. Truthfully, he was counting the minutes until Amenadiel showed up to yell.

". . . It is, right?" Duke asked. "I remember being so sure that I solved it. That the troubles were gone. But -- I mean, I was dying. What if . . . I made that up?"

He could contact Gloria, maybe -- should contact her regardless, let her know that they were all alive (probably). But he was a little terrified that Haven would still be swamped, so he hadn't yet.

"You can cut me and I'll bleed on you if you'd like," Lucifer offered.

Except, could he? What with the whole God thing?

"That's." Duke had no idea how he felt about that. Part of him wanted to grab a knife instantly, but what if. . . . He let out a low chuckle and ran his hand through his hair. "Fuck. Okay. So it turns out the answer to 'how am I' is 'terrified'."

If he didn't know, then he didn't have to know. But which was worse, never knowing? Or finding out he'd been wrong, and he still had that -- horror -- lurking inside him?

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