betterthanaplan | Luke's, Friday after hours

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Luke's, Friday after hours

In an attempt to feel less like their new "space" arrangement was actually a break-up in disguise, Duke and Octavia were having a date tonight.

At Duke's closed down diner. Look, restaurants that were open to the public were not for everyone, okay?

He'd busted his ass to make the place look a little less diner-y and a little more romantic. Most of the tables had been cleared aside and the whole place was lit by candle light, scattered across every surface. He'd made a meal heavy on the fruit, with salmon and pineapple kabobs and Caribbean confetti rice and pan-fried banana for dessert. The champagne cocktails were maybe a bit overboard for a "first date", but Duke didn't care.

Look, he only gave his romantic side free reign on rare occasions. When it happened, he went all out, okay?

[for the one!]

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"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.”

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