betterthanaplan | Lucifer's Mansion, late Wednesday night

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Lucifer's Mansion, late Wednesday night

It took Duke awhile to get really properly trashed -- another sign that maybe he needed to pull back on the casual drinking -- but once he was properly wobbly, he decided to lean into the impulse he'd had at the Devil's Nest tonight and show up drunk on Lucifer's doorstep.

He had a large glass of rum with him in one hand and a bottle of brandy tucked under the other arm. He set the rum down with great drunken ceremony and dignity at the end of Lucifer's front walk for the squirrels -- he really didn't need to be having anymore public meltdowns over this, thanks -- and then sprawled himself down onto Lucifer's front stoop.

And, because he was in fact a drunken sailor and it seemed thematic, he started to sing.

"Eliiiiiiise believe I never wanted this
I thought this time I'd keep all of my promises!"

He maybe should have put out more rum.

[For the one who lives here, and NFB please!]

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"Wish she'd warned me," Duke muttered. "Guess that woulda meant talking too, though."

He was starting to feel like an idiot, though he was pretty sure if he tried to drink any more brandy right now, his stomach would rebel.

"It's Octavia," Lucifer said. "We're all just permanently playing catch-up to whatever pops up in her head at any given moment."

Just a few more steps to the landing.

Duke picked his head up to blink blearily at Lucifer.

"You do that too?"

"Of course I do, I'm not a mind reader, I just stop talking whenever she pulls back and wait for her to say something else," Lucifer said.

And onto the landing it was.

"It's a long wait," Duke said. "She's not very communicative."

Well, that was the word he was trying to say, anyway. What came out was a bit more drunkenly muddled, but he felt he got his point across anyway.

"Neither are you right now," Lucifer told him, amused, and dropped him on the couch.

Not as gently as he could have, but not as roughly, either.

"Yuh-huh," Duke protested, even as he flopped across the couch. "I'm not even ranting."

"I think you're too drunk to rant," Lucifer said, sitting down next to him.

"Probably." Duke really wanted to stick his head on Lucifer's lap, and was drunk enough not to question the impulse too closely. "It's a good thing, right? That she's at work. Means she's, I 'unno, feeling okay."

"I believe 'stable' is the word you're looking for," Lucifer said.

He had no particular excuse for brushing his fingers through Duke's hair, beyond that it was late and he still technically had some weed in his system and it had been a long, sad few weeks.

Duke practically melted. He loved it when people played with his hair, and it had been a long time since the last time it’d happened.

It’d been a long time since he’d been able to relax against anyone at all.

“Stable,” he echoed. “Yeah. She’s. . . stable.”

Relaxing muscles that had been clenched so long hurt, and his voice was much wetter than he wanted to admit.

"And if she's here now, it won't be long until she'll come to you," Lucifer added.

If he sounded vaguely confused, it was because he had no idea where that tone in Duke's voice came from.

Didn't stop his fingers moving, or his knuckles brushing against Duke's cheek.

Touch starvation was a bitch.

“Yeah,” Duke said, not entirely sure how he felt about that. “Soon.”

A bitch Lucifer was in an intimate, long-term off-and-on relationship with.

"She's not Bigfoot, or an incoming apocalypse," he teased gently. "You'll be all right. And if not, feel free to show up drunk on my doorstep again."

"Will you pet me again if I do?" Duke asked. The way he continued to settle in hopefully let Lucifer know he hoped the answer was 'yes'.

Sadly, it mostly called Lucifer's attention to what he was doing, and his hands stilled (bugger).

"You are very inebriated," he told Duke.

Duke made rather a pitiful noise when he stopped.

“That fact has been clearly established,” he said, covering for that noise by speaking with exaggerated dignity.

Well, that noise was weirdly heartbreaking. Lucifer patted Duke on the chest and reminded himself that this was clearly a path into insanity.

"And you really should catch some sleep," he said lamely.

"Yes, mother," Duke said, rolling his eyes as though he'd ever had a parent who'd actually told him when to go to bed. "I don't want to go to sleep yet. Let's . . . do something."

He was totally going to end up suggesting 'Truth or Dare' like he was a twelve year old girl.

"Like what?" Lucifer said. "You can barely get off the couch without falling over."

"We could play a game," Duke said, closing his yes.

He was going to wind up dragging Duke's sleeping body to bed, wasn't he. Or maybe just leave him on the sofa.

Should've gotten him some water, first.

"A game? What, like this is a sleepover party?"

"Why not?" Duke asked. "Like you said, I'm not goin' back home tonight. We're havin' a sleepover."

"If I say yes, will you have some water and go to bloody sleep afterward?"

"Yes," Duke said, smiling up at him. "Game, water, sleep."

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