my_own_advocate | Cape Rouge, Fandom, to Los Angeles (eventually), Monday Afternoon

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Cape Rouge, Fandom, to Los Angeles (eventually), Monday Afternoon

Lucifer had been having a nice day. A bottle of red. The galley. Something enjoyable to watch on his phone.

"Brother."

Lucifer had been having a nice day. And now he was up on the deck of the Rouge, barking into the phone. "Amenadiel," he said, "Don't you have a child to rear or something?"

"Charlie is fine," Amenadiel said, on the other side of the phone. "He's also in Los Angeles. As am I."

"Ah, so you've moved? How nice, LA weather is excellent this time of year," Lucifer said, already halfway to turning off the phone. "But this could have been an email. Now, if you'd excuse me, I have an excellent Orion Swift waiting for me--"

"No, I mean he is in Los Angeles," Amenadiel repeated slowly. "Our Los Angeles. Time has resumed flowing." His voice brightened considerably. "I'm so glad you've finally embraced your Godhood, Lucifer!"

Oh, no.

"Oh, no," Lucifer said.

[[ for them who live here, please ]]

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Octavia had been drumming in her little music room, so when she came out she was looking about as sweaty and flushed as if she'd actually been working out, and was feeling like taking a nice cool shower - but she'd grabbed a nice cool drink first, and brought it with her up on the deck.

But the guys were there, and the looks on their faces immediately made her wary.

"What's going on?"

"Amenadiel," Lucifer hissed in her direction.

Who, on the phone, sounded ebullient. "Duke!" he proclaimed. "Congratulations on your resurrection!"

Duke pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Thank you?" He shook his head. "Dude, that's not necessarily a God thing. Luce said you guys brought back some other guy years ago."

Amenadiel.

Not necessarily a God thing.

Something cold went down Octavia's spine. Instinctively, she stepped closer to Lucifer.

"Well, yes," Amenadiel said, nonplussed. "Father empowered me to do such things. Why?"

Lucifer's hand went groping for Octavia's. He wasn't looking at her.

“What do you mean ‘why’?” Duke said. “Dude, what do you think ‘why’? Luce doesn’t want to be God!”

Octavia wasn't looking at Lucifer either, her gaze nailed to Duke, but as soon as Lucifer's hand was in hers, she was squeezing it much too tightly.

The expression on her face was beginning to tighten, too.

"He doesn't want to be?" Amenadiel said, and suddenly he sounded sharp. "Duke, we went to war for this. Angels lost their lives!"

Why on Earth was Lucifer's hearing good enough to pick up on that? He flinched.

Yeah, well, the angels weren't the only ones.

"Death happens," Duke bit back, just as sharp. "We fought so Lucifer's evil twin wouldn't be God. You're welcome."

There was... a loud. Irritated. Grunt on the other side. "Duke," Amenadiel said, again (he was annoying like that). "Please give me back to Lucifer."

"Don't bully him," Duke said darkly.

And held the phone out for Lucifer.

"He doesn't want to talk to me anymore."

Octavia was...

Octavia was glaring daggers at the phone. Silent.

(There was panic behind it.)

Lucifer's eyes were wild with terror as he took the phone from Duke. "Amenadiel?"

"Please tell me he was joking."

There was a brief, unhinged moment where Lucifer seriously considered flinging his phone into the sea.

"Ah, no," he said, "Though he was perhaps a touch. Stronger. Than I would have been."

Oh lord, what was he saying?

"So you are going to sit on the heavenly throne at last?" Amenadiel pressed.

Lucifer's gaze slid to the sea. "I may need," he said, "Another few..."

"Days?"

"Years."

"Lucifer."

Duke wanted to throw Lucifer's phone into the ocean. He could only imagine how Lucifer was feeling.

He shoved his hands through his hair to keep from actually doing so, and started pacing.

I want to stay me, went echoing through Octavia's mind. I'm afraid I might not.

Her nails were digging against Lucifer's skin with how tightly she was holding onto his hand. Her eyes darted from his face towards Duke, then back again.

She wanted to throw all of them into the ocean, as if they could swim away from Lucifer's world calling for him.

"We don't have years," Amenadiel was saying. "Someone needs to sit on the Throne--"

"Does someone?!" Lucifer snapped helplessly. "Are we sure Father's interventions actually made any bloody difference? Did he intervene at all? All this time--"

"If you don't sit on the throne, then what did we do this f--"

The terror and the anger crept up and up and up through Lucifer's bones, shading his face an ugly red.

"Why won't you listen to me? This was always your obsess--"

And crept. And crept. And crept.

"I wasn't the one who chose to go to war!"

And--

"Because I was trying to save us from--"

--crept--

"From what? From Michael? Michael just stepped into a vacuum that Father--"

"--created!" Lucifer snarled, angry tears brimming in his eyes, and he swept his arm through the air in a desperate attempt to funnel all this pent-up feeling somewhere.

He did not notice the skyline shifting as he did so.

Duke was still pacing, watching Lucifer's face and wishing there was something he could do to help -- and then the skyline changed.

A lot.

He froze, eyes wide. Breath catching. Every muscle tense.

Sudden transportation to a new location didn't tend to end well in his experience.

Without a fully-formed thought, Octavia found herself suddenly pressing tight against Lucifer's side. Startled into a stance that was vaguely - uselessly - protective.

Actually processing what had prompted it came a few seconds later, as her wide eyes also found the skyline.

And yet Lucifer was still talking. "Perhaps your problem is that you keep thinking we need to maintain the static status quo Father established that helped exactly none of us," he said. "And--"

He spun around then, to finish his dramatic gesture.

And found himself confronted with the outline of the Wilshire Grand Central in the far distance.

He stared.

"... Something's come up, talk to you later, bye."

“We’re in LA,” Duke croaked. He fisted his hand in his hair and looked around. “We’re on the Rouge but we’re in LA!”

"Lucifer," Octavia said, looking up at him. Imploring? Something like that, a vague, odd note. "You moved us."

Lucifer's tone veered back into the vaguely hysterical. "Right, well, I'm going to move us back," he said, waving his arm.

He waved it again.

He waved it a third time.

That was still absolutely the Los Angeles skyline.

Of course it didn't work. Of course.

Duke shut his eyes and breathed very deliberately, in through his nose, out through his mouth.

"Okay," he said. "Okay, so. . . ."

He didn't have anything else to say.

Great.

Octavia straightened up, squaring her shoulders. Tried to be subtle about her shuddery inhale, even though no one was actually looking at her.

"We're here," she said, forcing something firm into her tone. "We'll deal with that."

(There wasn't any room for a third person threatening to fall apart.)

Lucifer waved his arm another impressive five times, but it wasn't working. "I can't--"

He dropped his hand. "...We're going to need a permit," he managed.

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