betterthanaplan | Luke's, Friday after hours

Duke had had to come in early to get all his preparations done, and that meant Octavia had made her way over from the port by herself.

And somehow that meant she also found herself a little nervous as she knocked on the diner door now.

Duke made a quick final survey of the set up, then bustled over to let her in.

“Good evening,” he said, in a silly British accent. “Table for two?”

Octavia couldn't help the snort any more than she could help the little twitch of her lips. He was being ridiculous - and she had always loved that.

"Yes, please."

“But of course.” Duke bowed and waved her in, closing the door behind her. “So how was your day?”

"Uneventful," Octavia said, beginning to unzip her leather jacket. "I think I was mostly just... waiting."

“Nervous?” Duke asked. “I, uh, kinda was too.”

Octavia's hands stilled. She hadn't meant them to.

"Really?"

Somehow that made even less sense than her being nervous.

Duke nodded to the candles everywhere. “Hence . . . all this.”

Octavia's glance around the diner was quick. And then her eyes were on him again.

A little soft.

"You went all out because you were nervous?"

“Well yeah,” Duke said. “This is basically our first date.”

"Oh."

Well. He wasn't wrong.

Octavia finally remembered what she'd been doing. She unzipped the jacket the rest of the way, and shrugged it off her shoulders. Underneath she was wearing a sweater - the sweater, in fact, the one that was probably haunting Lucifer's dreams right about now. It was black and thin, with a deep V neckline.

It was not very Octavia at all, but judging by how it clung to her curves, the sweater didn't know that.

She tilted her head at him and tried for a light tone. "Worried it won't go well?"

Duke was going to need a moment to just look at that sweater. And how it hugged all her curves.

“No. I mean—yes, but. No.”

Yeah, that was what the inside of his brain had been doing all day.

Hers, too.

So maybe they needed to focus more on the present. Octavia noted his look at the sweater. Glanced down, herself. "This was Lucifer's pick."

“Ah.” Duke smiled and shook his head fondly. “The man knows his clothes. And if you tell him I said that, I’ll deny it.”

"I wanted to get sensible sweaters," Octavia said, wryly, though not without a sliver of fondness of her own.

It was clear Lucifer had opted for another s word instead.

“That sweater isn’t sensible?”

Octavia snorted.

"Not the way I like them."

“Well, it’s a very good date sweater,” Duke said. “So. Food! Grab a seat and I’ll bring it out.”

"Mochof."

Octavia put her jacket aside before she went to take a seat, finally looking around the diner properly.

He'd really gone all out, hadn't he?

“De nada.” Duke leaned in to kiss her cheek, then headed to the kitchen.

He really had.

Octavia could tell, looking at all the candles, and the way the space really felt like something different from Luke's on an ordinary day.

Like their space.

She leaned back in her seat with an almost perplexed little sigh, not that he was there to hear it.

Duke was back quickly with two plates of food. He set them down with a flourish. “Salmon kabobs with confetti rice. And champagne cocktails.”

"This looks amazing, jaka," Octavia said sincerely, leaning over her plate, before looking up. "Thank you."

She'd already said that before, but that didn't matter.

“You are extremely welcome.” Duke sat down across from her and just watched her, lit by candlelight. “So. What do you think of dating so far?”

It was the most naturall thing for Octavia to be lit by.

(And she was finding it suited him, too.)

"So far?" she said with a soft snort. "It looks a lot like dinner."

“Yes,” Duke said, nodding firmly. “As suits a dinner date.”

Another soft snort. "Are you making fun of me?"

It was a light and easy question to make, nothing more.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Duke started slipping salmon off his skewers.

"Yeah you would," Octavia retorted, reaching for her glass.

Duke pressed his free hand to his chest, even as he grinned. "You wound me. I only tease because I care."

Octavia shook her head, right before taking a sip.

She kept her eyes on him, though. "And Lucifer calls me incorrigible."

"It's entirely possible both of us are incorrigible."

"Maybe that's why we work so well together."

Okay, so that came out a little more wry than she'd meant it to.

"Oh, totally," Duke said. "And why he likes us so much."

Octavia snorted quietly again. Tilted her head a little to the side as she picked up one of her kabobs.

"We have an invitation to have dinner with him, too," she said. Idle, sort of. "At the house."

"Oh yeah? A particular time, or just . . . an open invitation?"

"Just an open invitation," Octavia said, shrugging a little. "And really, it was for me. He just said to bring you along."

That shouldn't have felt like a gut punch.

"Well. I guess we should do that sometime."

It'd been meant at least halfway jokingly.

But Octavia could already tell she'd been... careless. "Yeah," she said. "I guess so."

Duke managed to be careless with her all the time. He supposed it was her turn.

"What, uh. What do you think about him?" he asked. This wasn't really what he'd been thinking they'd talk about on this date, but he did think it was something they'd been dancing around too much. "About . . . dating him?"

Well that was a hard left right into it, wasn't it?

Octavia blinked at him.

"... What?"

"Like . . . us," Duke said. "Dating him. Both of us."

He was making a total mess of this, wasn't he.

Kind of, yeah.

At least judging by Octavia's staring. There was a skewer in her hand she was yet to touch, and it was as if she'd forgotten there was anything in front of her at all.

Was there a good way to propose inviting your best friend to be the third person in your relationship?

". . . Okay, bad idea. Forget I said anything."

Octavia was keenly aware that she should say something.

"What the fuck just happened?"

... Well, that was definitely something. Just, not a very good try, Tavi. But it seemed to jolt her back into her body, so to speak, enough that she at least lowered the skewer back onto the plate.

Edited 2020-12-13 00:22 (UTC)

"I'm pretty sure I just blew our date," Duke said with a sigh. "Sorry. I just -- we spent so much time hanging out when you were a racoon and I know you two like hanging out together, too, and it just kind of -- made sense."

Octavia's mouth opened again, but more words failed to materialize.

He remembered all her fears about not being enough, right? Because those sirens were blaring in her head again, and they were deafening.

Too loud for her to get an immediate hold on them, to tell herself this feeling of dread was irrational.

He was remembering that right now, yeah. He reached for her hand.

"It's okay if the answer's no. Tavi, it's okay. It was a bad idea."

Octavia pulled her hand back.

Reflex.

"Tonight was supposed to be about us," she said, still seeming -- thrown by the whole thing, for lack of a better word.

Duke sighed and lifted both his hands. "You're the one who brought him up."

Repeatedly, no less!

"What, so I should have expected this?"

“So maybe don’t get pissed at me for also talking about him.”

The staring was back. Just a little sharper, this time.

(Anger, it was like a comfortable blanket for her to drape over herself when she didn't know what else to feel. And it was hard to fight the impulse to reach for it.)

"You didn't just talk about him."

“You basically said he asked you on a date and offered to let me tag along like a puppy.”

"I didn't mean it like that!" Octavia snapped.

Her anger faltered a little, though, even as she did.

“Yeah, I get that. Because I give you the benefit of the doubt.” Duke sighed. “Can we — start this over?”

Octavia made a frustrated noise, but it sounded like the worst of the fire had died down. She pushed both hands through her hair, her gaze down towards the table now. "How do we start this over?"

It wasn't as if they could make anything unsaid.

“I don’t know, Tavi.” Duke rubbed both hands down his face. “I don’t actually have any — templates or secret pass phrases. You might have noticed I fucked up all my other relationships, too.”

"You're the one who asked."

She was just... going to take a moment to not look up.

“There. That. Let’s stop doing that. I know I did it too, but — saying ‘you started it’ doesn’t help anything, right?”

"Fine," Octavia said, her voice a careful, strained flat. "Was just hoping you had a suggestion."

Duke took a large sip of his champagne cocktail.

“Okay. Okay, let’s try . . . changing the subject. How, uh. How are things on the Samsara?”

Octavia finally looked up at him again. She looked like she wasn't sure that he wasn't joking.

Because seriously, Crocker.

"What?" she said. "Duke, you can't just change the subject."

Duke grit his teeth and pressed his cocktail glass to his forehead before meeting her gaze.

"Then you try something, Octavia. Because right now all you're doing is getting pissed at me for not doing it right."

Octavia pushed away from the table. Got up.

Not to leave, to pace.

"No," she said, sounding frustrated, more than anything, I'm pissed because you dropped a bomb on me."

"Really?" Duke asked. "A bomb? He's your best friend, Tavi. We've both gone to him when we're lonely and missing each other. He's come to us. What I suggested . . . it's basically just putting a name to what's already happening. And not feeling guilty about it."

"Yes, a bomb," Octavia retorted. She was pacing back and forth by the table like a caged animal. "Because this is out of nowhere."

Not entirely, but her defenses were going off all over. Made it hard to feel anything else. Or to even realize she was panicking.

"We -- I thought we're still trying to fix us."

She'd circle back to that 'guilty' part in a moment, too.

"We are! And this could help that!" Duke reached out his hand. "Would you sit down, please? There's nothing to fight in here."

"By adding another person into the mess?"

She did not look like she planned to sit down, no.

“You said we need balance. You said we need space. Maybe what we need is . . . a stabilizer. It’s easier to balance on three legs than two, right?”

Octavia let her head drop forward, rubbing her forehead with both hands. Shook her head.

"Have you been talking to him about this?"

"No." Duke shook his head. "And I haven't been planning this." He dropped his head with a rueful sigh. "Obviously I didn't plan this, or I might not be fucking it up so bad. I just -- you mentioned him inviting us for dinner right as we were talking about dinner dates, and, uh. It suddenly made sense."

"To you."

She sounded oddly wounded.

(She did not like that she sounded like that.)

"Yes!" Duke reached for her arm again. "Would you please sit down and talk to me? I'm not rejecting you. I still want you. Are you telling me you don't want him too?"

Those were the first useful things he'd said in the last couple of moments. At least judging by how Octavia finally stopped pacing, and let him touch her arm.

She drew in a deep breath.

Duke stroked her arm and otherwise held very still. Afraid to break this fragile peace. Afraid to hurt her again.

Octavia let him, for a moment. Then she turned her arm, and reached a little further, so she could curl her fingers around his arm in turn. It put the pulse points at their wrists against each other.

She continued to say nothing, though.

Duke bit his lower lip to keep from talking, and squeezed her hand.

Octavia's eyes flicked briefly up to his face. "You can talk," she muttered, just in case.

She was still trying to order her own thoughts into words.

"Yeah, I haven't really done well with that so far tonight."

"But you did right before you stopped," Octavia told him, hazarding a look up at his face. Slightly softer. Still grasping his arm.

Look, him outright telling her in words that he wasn't rejecting her had been the first thing to get through her panicked reaction. This was the best she could do at telling him she needed to lean further into that feeling.

Duke thought back over what he’d said and nodded slowly.

“I’m not saying you’re not enough,” he said carefully. “I’m saying we could both have more.”

Octavia's fingers twitched against his arm. "And you still love me," she said, trying her best not to let it sound like a question. She was mostly successful.

And still craving the reassurance of the question. Even though she knew he loved her.

“I love you,” Duke said. “So much.”

Octavia closed her eyes on an exhale. Stayed where she was, holding his arm, letting him hold hers.

And breathed.

For a while.

"I wouldn't have minded getting to stay," she said, after a long silence, "when he threw us out."

“Yeah?” Duke smiled up at her. “It was a pretty spectacular weekend, without all our grownup issues getting in the way.”

"That was Samael, though," Octavia muttered. She was keeping her eyes closed, like she needed to shut something off for a while. "Not our Lucifer."

But then those hadn't really been her and him as they were now, either. And it was all a bit beside the point.

“And with Luce it could be even better.”

Octavia shook her head. "I don't want teenagers being stupid."

Not that she thought that was what he was after, either. But it felt like she should say it anyway. And then her eyes opened, slowly. Caught his, a little more steady than before.

"When you say you want to..." No, that wasn't right. "That you want us to date him, what do you mean?"

“I mean . . . dinners. And sleepovers and breakfasts. All three of us. What we have now, only . . . with more naked time.”

Octavia kept it to herself that lately, that sounded more like what Duke and Lucifer had, between the two of them.

She hummed a vague response.

And didn't realize she was leaning a little more towards him than she had a moment ago.

Well, Lucifer hadn't recently told him he needed space. Also, he tended to just show up on the Rouge and demand attention.

"Does that sound nice to you?"

It did.

But:

"You think he wants that?"

Well. He had until she asked like that.

"Do you think it'll hurt to ask him?"

Octavia's head tilted by a fraction. "You know he doesn't hit on me, right?" she said. "And he was kind of weird when we were buying clothes."

And then there was Chloe.

"I don't know what he wants."

"I know he loves you," Duke said. ". . . Define 'weird'."

"Probably, but he's never said so," Octavia muttered, though she didn't sound like she minded it. As Duke well knew, she said it herself when she felt it, not with an expectation of reciprocated words.

Actions mattered more, anyway.

She shook her head a little. "I don't know, he was just... rushing, a lot."

"Huh." Duke tilted his head. "Maybe he had some kind of . . . appointment?"

"Not rushing like that," Octavia said, but found it hard to explain the difference. And just wound up shaking her head.

"I don't -- it's pointless to talk about this if we don't know what he thinks."

“No it’s not,” Duke said. “I want to know what you think. If you’re into the idea, then we’ll ask him. If you’re not, then . . . we won’t.”

"I don't know what I think."

This wasn't exactly something she'd given conscious thought to before.

(At least if you didn't count stray thoughts from almost a decade ago.)

“Then take your time,” Duke said, tugging her back toward the food. “Whatever you decide, you’ll still have me. Okay?”

Octavia let him tug her, but she really didn't feel like eating right now.

"Okay," she said, but she sounded vague and distracted.

“Hey,” Duke said, and this time moved to turn her to face him, drawing her between his legs. “I am not rejecting you. No matter what you or Lucifer decide, I am still in this.”

Oh, that was a good move. Octavia was slow to turn, but turn she did.

Something hesitant about her face as she looked down at him.

"Swega klin."

Edited 2020-12-14 19:47 (UTC)

"Swega klin," Duke confirmed. "Otaim."

Octavia nodded slowly. And then just watched him for a moment, her hands coming up to rest on his shoulders.

"Do you know," she asked, her voice quiet, and softer than before, "that Lucifer speaks Trig, too?"

"I did not," Duke said. "Did you teach him the same way you've taught me?"

Octavia's head shake was as slow as her nod from a moment ago.

"No." She skipped saying she would have told him a lot sooner if she'd done that. "He can just... speak every human language."

Tiny shrug. "Used to feel like cheating."

"Used to?"

It kinda still sounded like cheating to Duke.

"Now he just sounds like family."

It didn't mean the feeling of cheating was entirely gone, but...

"Anyway. He doesn't speak it to me often. Think I said something once when I was drunk that made him think I don't like it when he does. And I haven't corrected him."

"Why not?" Duke asked. "He is family, isn't he? Or am I getting the 'Children of Aurora' thing wrong again?"

Another head shake.

"I don't know why."

Duke shrugged back. "Well. Something else to think about." He smiled at her. "Now. Think we can try having dinner, again?"

He made it really easy, sometimes, to slip away from difficult conversations.

But Octavia wasn't taking the out. "No," she said softly.

Avoidance was one of Duke's favorite coping mechanisms, this was true.

". . . Okay," he said, smile dropping away. "Then, uh. What are we going to do instead?"

They were going to find out whether his seat was sturdy enough to hold two. Because Octavia was shifting to climb onto his lap.

At least she'd finally figured out she needed more contact.

The chair creaked a little, but held. Duke let out a soft, surprised laugh, even as he settled his arms more firmly around her.

“Yeah. This seems like a plan.”

"This was never something we should've talked about with a table between us," Octavia said, winding her arms around his neck.

Yes. This was better.

"I'm sorry," Duke said, leaning to rest his chin on her shoulder. "I made a pretty big mess of all this, huh."

Octavia's head tilted against his. "Kind of, yeah," she said. Maybe the way her fingers found their way into his hair would make up for how blunt that was. "You... startled me."

Flung her into a panic, more like, but saying that would have meant acknowledging it first.

"To say the least. You really thought I was rejecting you?"

"No," Octavia muttered. Only, then she had to amend it to, "Not really."

A part of her had just jumped to terror.

"It's not that simple, jaka."

"Nothing ever is," Duke said ruefully. "And there's no rush on anything, you know that, right? We have time."

You know, assuming Lucifer didn't run off again for some reason. Or Haven didn't decide it was time to yank Duke back. Or the island didn't try to kill any of them again. . . .

"Doesn't feel like it." Well, hadn't felt like it, anyway. In that first moment.

Her fingers played with the ends of his hair.

"Can you tell me more about how you feel?"

"About Luce?" Duke asked. He gave her waist a little squeeze as he tilted his head thoughtfully. "I mean. . . . It's comfortable. Spending time with him. And he's extremely hot, obviously. But also . . . I like that we can make him comfortable, you know? I like that I can do that for both of you."

"I don't think I've been making him comfortable lately," Octavia muttered.

That didn't mean she didn't see his point.

"This might help with that," Duke said. "If it's a, uh. Sexual tension thing. He promised not to hit on you, right? Maybe he's being careful not to, and that's making things awkward?"

"Maybe," Octavia said. "I don't know."

Her fingers tangled further in his hair.

"Maybe I've just messed up."

"I doubt that," Duke said. "How would you have messed up?"

"I don't know, Duke." Which was to say she didn't have the words for it. "Everything's hard, lately."

Ha, 'lately'.

"I know." Duke gave her another squeeze. "I wish Claire was answering. Have you tried talking to Dr. Linda, maybe?"

Octavia shook her head. It turned into nuzzling the side of his.

"I don't think she's my type for this."

"Still. You need someone. Someone who's not all tied up in all of it, like I am."

"I know."

It even went with the 'space' thing.

"I'll look," she muttered. "I just -- wish Claire would pick up."

"Yeah," Duke agreed. "I'd say I should go check on her, but, uh. I'm pretty sure there are multiple people on this island who would tie me to a chair if I tried."

"And one of them's sitting on you," Octavia noted, trying for a lighter tone, and not really hitting it. "I would not make any sudden moves towards Haven."

"You would be first in line to tie me down," Duke agreed. "And the most fun."

For that, and after a brief hesitation, Octavia pressed a soft kiss against his temple.

And then another, against his cheek.

Duke closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, a soft hum sounding from the back of his throat.

"So . . . we're okay? Not great maybe, but okay?"

Octavia nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. "We're okay enough, jaka."

She didn't currently feel like running away. Or like he was going to do it, either.

She pressed a kiss against his neck. "I love you."

Duke tilted his head to give her more room. "Ai hod yu in seimtaim."

It was room Octavia was more than willing to make use of. Eager, even, in her own, slow way, letting her lips brush various parts of his neck.

"Ai hod em in taim yu chich ai op gon Trig."

"Sha, gona," Duke said on a sigh. "That's why I do it."

"I should teach you more," Octavia muttered. "Den yu na biyo diyo raun yu melon."

She was nipping at the edge of his earlobe.

"En raun yu tombom."

"Melon is head?" Duke guessed. He was a bit distracted by what she was doing against his neck and ear for any proper language lessons just now, but he couldn't help at least try a little. "I'm going to assume tombom is dirty."

Octavia shook her head, then kissed the spot she'd just been teasing with her teeth.

And put her hand over the center of his chest. Patted it twice, once for each syllable as she said them.

"Tom-bom."

Duke let out a soft whine that turned into a laugh halfway through.

"Ah. So . . . definitely dirty."

Octavia snorted. Right by his ear, so, sorry about that.

"If that's what's in your heart, then sure."

"I may be influenced by certain . . . circumstances," Duke admitted. He turned his head to start returning the favor against her jawline. "Just a little."

"Are the circumstances in your pants?" Octavia drawled, as she tipped her head to the side just a little.

"The circumstances are on my lap," Duke said. "And most recently were nibbling on my ear."

Another soft snort. Her fingers curled in his shirt. "And you just didn't dare blame me directly?"

"Well. You're not always nibbling on my ear," Duke said. "Hence . . . circumstances."

Let's be honest, Octavia hadn't been nibbling on his ear a whole lot in the recent past, had she?

Trying to make up for that with a quick sneak attack at his neck now, though. She'd had enough practice getting (re-)acquainted with his sensitive spots there, at least.

"I'll show you circumstances."

"Oooo, yes please," Duke said, laughing again. "Let's do that."

Octavia gave his neck another nip, before shifting a little on his lap and turning his head so she could kiss him. Kind of aggressively, really.

The cure for her panic was to feel as close to him as she could.

And, well. Their dinner was doomed to get cold.

Luke's, Friday after hours

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