betterthanaplan | The galley of the Cape Rouge, Thursday evening

"Fuck?" Lucifer called, inquisitively, as he slipped back out of his closet-room and into the hallway.

Duke huffed softly. It was like a summoning spell!

"Just, uh. Doing some research."

Somatization. Depersonalization.

Yep, he identified with way too much of this.

Oh great. Now Lucifer was concerned, and he looked the part as he entered the galley.

"... About something that will bite us in the arse at the nearest convenience?

"Something that already has," Duke said. "My fucked up brain."

"Ah," Lucifer said. He sank down into a seat by Duke. "Therapy?"

"Therapy," Duke agreed. "Dr. Shin gave me a diagnosis." He set his phone down, the wiki for C-PTSD still open on the screen. "And it's complex."

"Ah," Lucifer said again, squinting at Duke's phone. "That sounds... complicated?"

"No, complex," Duke said with a snort. Was inappropriate humor a symptom? . . . No. Well, at least he had that.

"... So what does that mean?"

"That Mom and Dad -- and Haven -- fucked me up but good," Duke said with a sigh. "Apparently it's PTSD so bad it actually warps your personality. Comes with misdirected anger outbursts, avoidant tendencies, anxiety, depression. . . ."

Sounding familiar yet, Luce?

Well, wasn't that everybody?

"Isn't that most humans?" Lucifer asked quizzically.

"I'm guessing no, since, uh. They went ahead and gave it an acronym." Duke shook his head. "I can't decide if it's a relief to know it's a thing or if I'm mad. Because it's a thing. That makes me sound like a crazy person."

Dr. Shin did not approve of that word, Duke!

"I mean technically it's merely labeling the kind of crazy that you have had almost your entire life, by the sounds of it," Lucifer offered. "And Linda prefers not to use the word 'crazy' at all."

Duke sighed. "So does Dr. Shin," he admitted. "Who looks weirdly like the guy who used to work at the fire station?"

He shook his head. Check out that avoidant tendency at work, going off topic!

"Uh. Anyway. It's . . . nice to have a reason for things, I guess."

Lucifer was beginning to wish he'd brought a snack. "Right, so how do you fix... complex whatever it is?" he inquired.

Linda would love to know.

"Um." Duke scrolled through the site. ". . . Establish safety, mourn your losses, and reconnect with your community. For safety it says 'this stage might involve the need for major life changes for some patients.'" He wrinkled his nose. "I'm guessing Haven's tendency to, you know, kidnap me might make that extra hard."

"Major life change: no more Haven," Lucifer said. "I could live with that."

"So could I," Duke said. "Doesn't mean I'm willing to bet on it."

No, really, it was very hard to feel completely safe when he'd literally woken up in Haven without warning.

Lucifer sighed. "So essentially what your therapist has uncovered is that we need Haven to stop kidnapping you all the time so you can feel safe and process all of this," he said. "Not exactly a surprise."

"No," Duke agreed. "It's just. It weirds me out that it has a name."

"Mm," Lucifer said. "A diagnosis."

Funnily enough, Linda had always resisted giving him one, for some reason.

He reached for Duke's arm, settling his hand on Duke's wrist.

"In the book and everything." Duke frowned and shrugged. "I mean, I'm assuming. I don't have a copy of the DSM whatever number to reference."

"Well, neither does anyone on this ship, so I think we'll just take it as stated," Lucifer said. "Bloody weird."

"I am," Duke agreed. "Diagnostically and everything."

Joking about it was a form of coping, right?

"Do you want to talk about it more, or do you want a distraction?" Lucifer inquired.

"I don't know," Duke admitted. "I'm not sure how well a distraction would work right now. I keep seeing 'complex!' flashing in my mind."

That wasn't a symptom. That was just Duke's way of processing right now.

"Ah," Lucifer said. "Yes, I don't know of any cure for that bar alcohol."

He did, however, use the excuse to slide his hand in Duke's.

Duke squeezed his hand in return and offered him a wan smile. “Thanks for offering, anyway.”

"Just... trying to help," Lucifer said, matching that smile with a small one of his own. "So how do you feel?"

Duke shrugged. “Confused? Relieved?” He shook his head. “Vaguely insulted?”

Scared?

“I really don’t know.”

"The therapist didn't actually call you crazy out loud, did he?" Lucifer checked.

What? 'Insulted' seemed odd in context.

“Oh god no,” Duke said. “I’m pretty sure he calls it ‘the C word’. I just — it’s common enough to have a name.”

He wasn’t supposed to be common! He was a unique snowflake or something!

"And that's a problem?" Lucifer prompted.

He was earnestly trying to figure this out.

“Apparently?” Duke shrugged. “I can’t really explain it either. I mean it’s also nice to know I’m not alone, but. Yeah, I don’t know. Like if someone else showed up to Port in an old fishing trawler turned live-aboard. That’s my thing.”

"It's not the best thing to have, though. Is it?" Lucifer said.

“You two are the first people I’ve found who do more than put up with me even when I’m not useful,” Duke said. “It’s a terrible thing to have. But making the best out of terrible is . . . pretty much how I’ve survived.”

"Hm," Lucifer said, and squeezed his hand. "Are you a tad antsy about perhaps letting that go?"

“That’s . . . a possibility.”

It was hitting the nail on the head.

"Scared of catastrophe?"

“Scared . . . I’m stuck. Like this.”

"Like what?" Lucifer asked, giving him a little nudge with his shoulder.

Duke swayed with the nudge and ended up leaning on him. “Feeling crazy.”

Lucifer's hand slipped away from Duke's, and around Duke's shoulders instead. "You're not," he said. "I can say that much."

“It definitely doesn’t feel that way.” Duke sighed, dropping his head onto Lucifer’s shoulder. “But if I fix it . . . who will I even be?”

"Yourself with a great fewer hang-ups and an ability to actually let yourself be happy?" Lucifer offered. His hand came up to rub gently at Duke's shoulder.

“Well. When you put it that way. . . .”

Duke sighed. He had an idea, one that appealed to him so much it hurt. But one that neither of his partners would like.

“If we go to the Bahamas,” he said, “I want to sail down. Alone. And meet you there.”

Lucifer tilted his head. "... How long would that take?"

"If I use the motor when the winds aren't great . . . handful of days. Let's say five."

"Well," Lucifer said slowly, "That's... less than ideal... for Christmas..."

Edited 2024-12-20 17:05 (UTC)

"Ah." Duke hadn't thought of that. Christmas was kind of sneaking up on him this year. "Well. Maybe I'll sail back then? I just -- I really want some time alone out on the water. Ideally without you two freaking out the whole time."

"Right," Lucifer said, "And I'll happily support this, except..."

He held out a hand. "'Handful' and 'five' are two very different concepts, I do hope you realize that."

"Five fingers? Handful?" Duke said with a soft huff. "Between you and Tavi, you're going to give me a complex."

"Five days is a long time at sea," Lucifer pointed out. "Are you sure this isn't one of those things where you have an epiphany with a good idea and then you're so pleased about the epiphany that you sprint straight past the good idea and off a cliff?"

Because Lucifer had some experience with that!

“Not when you put it that way,” Duke said. “I just. I think I need time to decompress. Your date nights and my giant fog of doom aside, I haven’t spent much time alone in . . . I don’t know how long. Sailing to the Bahamas seemed better than just going ‘heading to sea, see you later.’ At least this way there’s a goal.”

"I would honestly feel more comfortable with 'heading to see for a day or two, see you then'," Lucifer admitted. "Because you do... remember about the ocean, right? There's quite a bit of it. And it's December."

"I used to live there, hon," Duke pointed out. "I'm well aware."

The danger aspect -- and the fact that Duke knew he knew how to mitigate it -- was a big draw, honestly.

"And you should do whatever you want to do, obviously," Lucifer said, holding up a hand, "But hopefully you understand if I don't think five days of wondering whether the latest hurricane has murdered you is what I would call the most restful beginning to a vacation."

"I do understand. Which is why I have a radio. And GPS. You guys can track me the whole time."

He'd thought about that part, Luce! Admittedly he could have thought about it harder, but still.

"Are you going to radio us at 3 in the morning when Octavia wakes up from a nightmare and decides to check the weather report?" Lucifer inquired. "For five nights?"

"Four nights," Duke said. "And I'd hope you would radio me if that happened. I can't know when she's having a nightmare if I'm not there."

He was working on not being able to predict her every reaction beforehand, Luce, let's be careful about implying he should anticipate the timing of her nightmares.

... it wasn't about predicting the nightmares, it was about the fact he wouldn't stop being in danger at 3 in the morning and they wouldn't stop needing reassurance at 3 in the morning as a result. Honestly, Duke.

Lucifer turned his head and stared at him. "Who radios you isn't the point," he said. "The point is you cannot reassure us every minute of every day out at sea that you're not dead, so it would probably be best if you temper your ambitions by a few further days. Unless you desire to give us both a coronary."

Duke sighed.

"I guess I could . . . portal down to Georgia or something. Cut out the Mid-Atlantic."

"That would be better," Lucifer said honestly. "Best would be if you didn't sacrifice part of our vacation for it, but I appreciate that this is something you feel you have to do right now, so..."

"It gives me a goal," Duke said again, voice softer. "A reason for it to be this many days, and not -- running away."

He'd done a lot of running away in his youth. And this wasn't not an attempt to soothe the part of him that still wanted to run all the time.

Lucifer sighed.

"Just be careful," he said quietly. "And keep it short. And when you find us, we're going to sleep on top of you for a solid two weeks. No moving. No coming back to Fandom before that, either."

"I'm not going to argue with that," Duke said. "You know how much I like when you guys pile in on me in bed."

Lucifer let out a huff. "Imagine," he said, "I had actually come out here to talk to you about something else bed-related, but..."

“We got distracted,” Duke said. “What’s up?”

"Octavia and I have been talking about... letting you into her room in the house," Lucifer said. Beat. "That's a euphemism, I'm talking about all three of us having kinky sex together in her room."

Duke's brows shot up.

"Wait, really?"

He'd . . . still been pretty sure he would not be brought in on that with Octavia, yeah.

"We'd both like to find ways to include you," Lucifer said smoothly, "And Octavia and I agreed it'd be easiest if it were there. And... I was in control."

Read: he was the least likely to trip anyone's landmines in the bedroom.

Duke nodded a little more slowly. "Okay. I mean . . . that sounds fun."

But Octavia wasn't apparently comfortable talking to Duke about it.

He could unpack that later. He gave Lucifer a grin.

"You know I like letting you be in charge in the bedroom."

Octavia had thought that maybe Lucifer talking to Duke about it first would diminish the amount of potential emotional flailing around it, as far as Lucifer could see. Honestly, Duke.

"And so does she, at times," Lucifer said, with a faint smile. "It is just a kind of vulnerability she holds rather sacred, so..."

He pulled Duke in a touch closer. Trying to figure out how to phrase this properly.

You know what really helped with the flailing? Telling him things. So he felt less like assuming was his only choice.

"So my history of . . . flinching . . . isn't great for her for that."

(You fucked it up like always and now neither of them will ever trust you again. Or they were worried about him and his known track record of irrational emotional reactions! Because you're a fuck up, yes.)

Okay, sometimes talking back to the intrusive thoughts worked better than others.

... Yeah, so Octavia had tried to tell him things, as far as Lucifer could see, and Duke had hyperfocused on his own feelings, so...

"No," Lucifer agreed, oblivious to Duke's mental diatribes (or this conversation might have involved more smacking). "Neither is how sensitive she can be about being perceived. So I walked her through a version of how this could work for us all."

He leaned back a touch.

"She agreed," he said. "And she wants to try. Frankly, we've all been leaving this one unhandled for too long."

"Can you walk me through it, too?" Duke asked.

Octavia had told him that he was hyperfocused on his own feelings. But not really much of anything about what her feelings were. She was not at all great at telling him what her feelings were, even when asked directly. It was kind of a Thing.

That, ah.

That seemed to be a with-Duke problem. Possibly a Duke-shouting-over-her problem.

"Of course," Lucifer said, relaxing a touch. "Recently, we've been exploring... her being seen. Exposed. And you both like being ordered around, so I thought we could... make a game of that. Make you undress her. Make you look."

Duke interpreted it as a "Duke is fragile so we can't tell him things" problem and was doing his best not to be too pissed off about it.

He hummed thoughtfully. "That could work. Being ordered around can be fun, though . . . I like the ropes better."

They were erotic for him in completely different ways, really.

He grimaced. "Not to make this all about me, again."

Edited 2024-12-20 22:26 (UTC)

"Oh, I plan to work that in," Lucifer said, eyeing him. "But this wouldn't be about us going everywhere all at once. We need a trust and a comfort between all three of us that clearly isn't there yet."

"Yeah," Duke agreed. "That is definitely something to work on." He sighed, leaning into Lucifer again. "Do you think . . . can you ask her if it's alright if you tell me a bit about what you two do together?"

"I can, and I floated it by her earlier, actually," Lucifer said, though he sounded a touch wary. "Why, though? Are you planning to run it through your brain like some stupid bloody film about what you haven't been a part of?"

Duke stiffened, but forced himself to breath through it.

"Because I want to know what's going on with my snogon," he said softly. "I want to know what gets her going, even if she doesn't want me to be an active part of it."

He wanted to stop feeling like the spare in a relationship he'd been the one to suggest in the first place.

(You fucked that one up too, remember? the intrusive voice said gleefully. Duke shoved it back down.)

"Also, it might be kind of hot. Like . . . if you told me about it while you were tying your fancy knots."

"I'd be happy to do that, but-- she wants you to be a part of it," Lucifer said, expelling an exhale. "You're just--"

He ran his fingers through his hair.

"Darling, I love you," he said, "But I need you to both realize that Octavia's sexual preferences are not about you, and that figuring out one's kinks and how to work them into a relationship to everyone's mutual benefit is a process that you have to allow to occur naturally." He dropped his hand. "And it feels like you're putting so much significance on this that you can't let yourself do so."

He really wished he had a drink right now.

Edited 2024-12-20 22:59 (UTC)

Duke stiffened again, sitting up.

(He loves you, but you have to change to earn it. Shut. UP.)

"Yeah," he said. "None of this about me. That's been made abundantly clear."

Lucifer's eyes rolled up towards the ceiling.

"Oh, for Me's sake," he snapped. "Duke, you cannot both feel bad about not being included and yet refuse to do the work that being included entails! What, did you think Octavia and I just magically opened a door to extra special fetish land one day?"

He leaned back, eyeing the man.

"Octavia wants to tell you what she's into," he said. "I've said that so many times in the past five minutes, you haven't acknowledged it, I feel like I'm bloody losing my mind. We are both just waiting for you to let her."

"Stop telling me I'm doing everything wrong then!" Duke burst out. "Yes, I feel left out. And it hurts. And being told that it shouldn't hurt doesn't make it not hurt!"

He shoved himself up from the table to pace.

"I'm fine doing the work, Luce, I'm happy to do the work, I don't think I've said anything that should make you think I don't want to do the work. But right now it feels like all I am doing is work while you two hold up scores like you're Olympic judges."

"Duke, we are trying to help you," Lucifer said flatly. "I am not telling you you are doing everything wrong, I am trying to help you do things right, and it is very disconcerting and concerning when your only response to that is 'stop making me feel bad'."

“Telling me to do it right is just telling me I’m wrong but nicer.” Duke jammed his hand into his hair and fisted it. “I sound insane.”

Lucifer let out a loud sigh.

"Duke, when are you going to accept that we both want you to succeed?" he asked.

Duke sat back down, a bit further from Lucifer than before.

“You say that stuff, and to me it sounds like . . . I’m not enough.” His hand was still buried in his hair. “And — I only just realized I was even hearing that and not just feeling it. And it freaks me out and I just start yelling. Like I’m trying to get you to leave me.”

Lucifer looked at him. "Well, one, it's not that easy to get me to leave you," he said. "Two, you are enough. This is just... sensitive terrain. The number of cock-ups I made with her in this at the start is... astounding. So I want to help."

Duke let go of his hair to spread his hands. “That’s part of what I want to know, man! I want to hear about what I’ve missed. I want to know more than ‘Octavia has something so sacred she won’t even tell me what it is’ and it’s really hard to maintain a positive attitude when the woman you love doesn’t trust you even that much. That she thinks not telling me things about herself is protecting me.”

"And I am trying to tell you she wants to tell you about the sex," Lucifer told him frankly. "She feels like she can't because you keep talking over her about how left out you feel and what you'd rather be doing. A bit like telling me you prefer ropes right after I lay out a carefully-negotiated plan to help bring you into that part of our relationship."

“I caught myself on that one,” Duke pointed out. He leaned back in his seat and sighed.

“That’s not how the ‘left out’ thing came up. We’d touched on you two, yeah, but the conversation had moved on. She was —“ He cut himself off with a grimace and rephrased it. “— I remember thinking she was criticizing me. That she thought I was weak, so she wouldn’t tell me things. About her trouble, not sex stuff. That’s when I said I felt left out. The sex stuff came up again, but that wasn’t what I was focused on.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. He’d ultimately felt that had been one of their more successful conversations of late, but she’d turned to Lucifer with it. Which felt like more being left out.

“I hate not being told things, especially’ for my own good’. But like. That’s why I asked you to see if you could tell me: I was trying to respect that she didn’t want to. But then I’m getting —“ another cut off “— I feel like I’m getting — a lecture on going too fast and expecting too much. For just wanting to see if I could hear about some things.”

A beat.

“. . . And also asking for a little of my current preferred kink to be in the mix too. Which is gauche, but I am a sailor.”

Lucifer leaned back, a subconscious mirroring of Duke. "The reason I have been pushing back on you here," he said, searching for a delicate sort of phrasing he did not feel he was good at, "is because I think you are thinking about this from the wrong angle, and it's leading to a number of unforced errors."

Had he mentioned he wished he had a drink right now?

"I understand that you feel left out. That you are doing your best, and it is frustrating when that best does not get you the reaction you were hoping for," he said. "The problem is that you are doing the best you think you should be doing, not what we're actually telling you we'd prefer. The sex is a good example. I am offering you a chance to see, experience, and understand this part of her, so you can explore it with her - and with me - in whatever way works best for the two of you later. And yet your immediate first thought is to ask about how you can make it more about what you like."

Duke shook his head. “Yeah, I get you want me to be better. That you think that I think too much. But you’re so busy telling me what you think my reaction should have been, it’s like you’re not listening to what I’m saying now.”

He looked at Lucifer. “I am hurt. I’m trying to tell you about it instead of continuing to push it down. And I’m not going to apologize for asking for something I would like in a sex scene I am supposed to participate in.”

Right, now Lucifer wanted a drink just so he could throw it.

"Duke," Lucifer said slowly, "I have acknowledged that you feel hurt. Much like, as far as I'm aware, Octavia has acknowledged that you feel hurt. I don't know what else you want me to bloody say besides 'yes, all of your proposed solutions for this are correct'."

“You acknowledged it? Or you said ‘okay but’ and then tried to explain why I shouldn’t be? Because the second one is what I’m hearing. And it’s not helping.”

"How am I telling you you shouldn't be?!" Lucifer snapped, exasperated. "I am trying to tell you how we can get to a place where you aren't! Just like Octavia has been, as far as I know! But you just keep coming back 'round to 'I'm hurt' and yes, we know, that's why we're trying to fix it, in a way that takes everyone's bloody feelings into consideration."

Edited 2024-12-21 09:04 (UTC)

“Because that’s all you’re saying!” Duke was getting close to tears. “We were just talking about how I need to feel safe to recover. I don’t right now. Whether you think that’s rational or not, you continuing to push your solution of ‘don’t think so much and stop being selfish’ is clearly not helping!”

Edited 2024-12-21 09:23 (UTC)

"That's not what I'm--"

Lucifer reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Yes, he was starting to see why Octavia was so twisted up about this now. "Well, I'm sorry for making you feel that way," he attempted.

Duke took a long breath, arms around his middle now.

“Thank you.”

He ducked his head, riding the wave of shame that came with realizing how hard he’d been freaking out.

“I’m sorry I yelled.”

Lucifer expelled a breath. "I'm sorry if I got a bit... shirty... along the way," he also offered.

Duke huffed softly. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.” He ran his hand through his hair — gently this time. “And, uh. I know I can sound pretty crazy right now.”

"You're not crazy, love," Lucifer said, watching him a touch longer. "We just... appear to be having different conversations. And I'm not sure what happened."

A pause.

"Can you walk me through what happened?"

“. . . No?” Duke said. “I told you what it sounded like from my end, Luce. I was angry, but I wasn’t making that up. You and Octavia, you found some kind of . . . shorthand or something. And I’m just not there.”

"Right," Lucifer said slowly. "But I didn't intend to say the things you heard me say, so I am trying to understand where this went wrong."

Edited 2024-12-21 18:25 (UTC)

“I’m not trying to be a dick here. And I’m not stupid. But I can’t tell you what went wrong, man. Not any clearer than I’ve already tried.” He was tearing up again, but doing his best to breathe through it. “I know I . . . broke your trust. But I think this goes deeper than that. You — it feels like you keep trying to fix me.”

Lucifer wanted to point out that it felt like Duke kept making unforced errors, and that it seemed obvious why, and that he just wanted to explain it to Duke clearly enough so he'd stop hurting himself (and them) so frequently. But that clearly hadn't helped. So.

He didn't.

He just had no idea how to address this otherwise.

"Okay," he said. "I see. That was not my intention."

Edited 2024-12-21 18:48 (UTC)

“I know,” Duke said. “But you weren’t listening when I tried to tell you. You just — doubled down and told me that I was wrong.” His voice broke a little on the last word. “I wasn’t trying to talk about right or wrong. I just wanted to tell you how I felt.”

Lucifer took a deep breath. He let it slip out of him slowly. (It hurt seeing Duke like this.)

"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought-- well. I thought we all already know how you feel, so let's make it better, I thought. Clearly not my greatest of calls."

Duke nodded back. He still wasn’t sure Lucifer got it — but Lucifer probably felt the same about him.

“I don’t . . . actually know if I’m ready for a full scene with you two,” he admitted very softly. “That’s why I asked about just hearing about it. You and Octavia keep talking about what a giant thing this is for her — Luce, I didn’t even know you two were doing things like that until you showed me her room. At this point, I just want to learn about it. How was I supposed to know it was such a big thing for her if neither of you say so until you’re telling me I’m handling it wrong?”

"I... Assumed," Lucifer said slowly, "That considering you used to do these things with her, and Octavia is so... Octavia, you would understand how complicated this is." He met Duke's gaze. "That isn't an accusation. It just didn't occur to me that you knew that little."

Edited 2024-12-21 19:47 (UTC)

“That was years ago,” Duke said, shaking his head. “Both of us are different people now. And she’s never seemed to want to talk to me openly about any of it. Not the bunker, not her therapy, not even her damn trouble. And of course when we finally do I fuck it up, I’m fucked up.”

He wanted to pace again, but worried if he did he’d start yelling. So he curled in on himself instead.

“So I flinch. And she freezes. And we never talk about it again. How am I supposed to know that’s not forever if she doesn’t tell me?”

Ah. There was the real frustration. This was , if not the heart, a major artery of the problem.

"Now there," Lucifer said slowly, "Is a complicated question."

He looked up at the window.

"Octavia and I didn't develop shorthand in a day," he said. "In fact, we adopted the stoplight system to help deal with some of our communication failures."

“So we need to work on that ourselves,” Duke said. “I‘ve been rushing to try to catch up — and you two are seeing it as me going too fast.”

"We want you to be a part of this," Lucifer said quietly. "It's just-- do you know how the ropes make you feel? It's not just about sex, is it?"

“It makes me feel safe in a way I haven’t before,” Duke said. “When I told her that . . . she told me I needed more therapy.”

Which, well. At least he’d found Dr. Shin after that.

"Well, I'm sorry about that."

Lucifer leaned back, trying to get to his initial point.

"On date nights, Octavia and I seek out that safe spot for her," he said. "It's rarely the same. Sometimes she craves control. Other times, to be humiliated. Or to be made... Small. We're always searching for the right... Vibe."

He looked at Duke. "Your needs, now we've found them, are delightfully uncomplicated in comparison," he said. "Not that I think Octavia's are a burden, but... It's... Fulfilling. For me. To know I can provide that."

“I’m glad. It’s been really good for me, too.” Duke flicked him a timy, tired, but warm smile, then sighed. “I tried to ask her. What makes her feel safe. She seemed insulted by the implication that she didn’t already.” He rubbed his face. “I try to anticipate her needs and she freezes up. Because I’m running over her feelings. So I try to ask and she freaks out about that too. Says she doesn’t want to talk. It’s like I hurt her once so now she holds me at arms length—but refuses to let me go. And I don’t know what to do and I get so frustrated and I explode.”

"She wants to talk to you, Duke," Lucifer said. Looking at his face again. "But unfortunately the one way you two are similar is that you need time to find the right words."

“I hope it’s that. I really do.” Duke looked at Lucifer in return. “I’m just having a little trouble believing it.” He sat back. “We really have been making progress, though. Neither of us has walked out. We try to end things on a nice note, not let things fester.”

"Do you want advice?" Lucifer asked. Still watching him.

Another little smile. “Thank you,” Duke said. “But, uh. No. That maybe isn’t a good idea right now. I’m just. Glad you’re listening.”

"Well, I'm here if you change your mind," Lucifer said easily. "I'm also here for questions, if you have them. I can't go too deeply into the weeds, but I can tell you more."

“Thanks,” Duke said again, finally starting to relax a bit. “I will probably have several. Especially after some time on my own.”

"Just be careful out there, all right?"

Lucifer's voice had definitely softened now.

“I will,” Duke promised. “I have no intention of not kissing the shit out of you two when I get to the Bahamas.”

"Good."

A brief silence.

Then: "Duke?"

Duke tilted his head. “Yeah?”

"I want you to know that I know I can be overbearing and rush off to fix things when that might not be what you need," Lucifer said slowly. "But when I do, it's not because I think you need fixing. It's that I can't bear to see you suffer and struggle when in the moment it seems so easy to jump in and help."

Duke breathed slowly and nodded. “I know. Sometimes I know. It’s just — hard to hear it another way right now.”

Lucifer nodded. "I just wanted to... say that," he said.

“Okay.” Duke shifted closer. “I’m going to lean against you now, okay?”

"Okay," Lucifer echoed, shifting his arm to make more space.

Duke scooted in to press against his side, and leaned his head on his shoulder.

“In case I haven’t said it in a bit: I love you.”

Lucifer's arm fell around his shoulders, and he pulled Duke in further. "I love you too," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Duke's head.

“Thanks for putting up with me.”

Lucifer let out a soft huff, close to a laugh. "Thanks for putting up with me," he said.

Octavia had been out. Not in the woods, not when it was already evening and she couldn't feel entirely in control of what she was touching at any given moment. Instead, she'd walked along the beaches, staying near the water.

And now she was back. Shrugging off her jacket as soon as she was in, then kicking off her boots, calling oput a general, "I'm home!" as she did.

"Hi, Home, I'm insane."

Duke. A dad joke and a pejorative? Maybe ease back a little.

Well. It was a great way to make sure Octavia was giving him a very confused look as she padded her way into the galley.

"... What?"

"I'm crazy. Bonkers. An absolute nutso." Duke, stop. "Dr. Shin figured out what's wrong with me."

"I don't... think he's supposed to tell you that in those words," Octavia hazarded.

A little bit of something gentle mixing in with the still-present confusion.

"Also pretty sure that's not true."

"I looked up the symptoms and it seems pretty true," Duke said. "But, yeah, Dr. Shin would definitely not approve of my description."

"So... what's going on?" Octavia asked as she stepped up to him. "Start from the beginning."

"I have a diagnosis," Duke said. "And I don't know what to think about it. Which . . . might be a symptom of what I've been diagnosed with."

Being unable to identify his emotions was a type of emotional dysregulation, right? Or maybe it was part of depersonalization?

He should not have read that wiki.

"Right," Octavia replied, slowly. "Is it going to help me understand anything if I ask what it is?"

Because, you know. She already lived with him. A lot of the ways whatever it was presented itself, she was probably already very familiar with.

"No idea," Duke said with a shrug. "Worth a shot, I guess." He took a deliberate breath. "Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. For when regular PTSD just won't cut it. Symptoms include hyper-vigilance, depression, anxiety, avoidant behaviors, and oh yeah, our personal favorite, an inability to properly direct anger."

That was not how that was generally phrased. Though it wasn't inaccurate for him at the moment.

"Wow," Octavia said, more in the face of getting a list than anything else. "Did he give you a pamphlet or something?"

Or had he been stress-reading things online?

“I googled,” Duke said. “It’s . . . apt.”

"I mean, I assume your therapist is a professional."

He better be, lest the guy find himself in deep shit with Octavia.

"So it should fit."

Edited 2024-12-19 20:34 (UTC)

“Linda recommended him,” Duke said. “So yeah. He works in a clinic and everything.”

Duke took a portal to California to see him!

And Octavia thought portaling to New York for hers was a long way to go.

She nodded. "Okay, good. So he's the real deal."

“He’s the real deal,” Duke agreed. “And C-PTSD is apparently common in folks who go through prolonged trauma they couldn’t escape.”

So . . . basically all three of them
Might qualify.

Octavia just nodded, because yeah, that sounded about right.

(Also she may or may not have already had a diagnosis on file in Dr. Baker's papers. She had never been very diagnosis driven.)

"So now that he's figured that one out," she replied, "I assume now he'll have a plan for how to work with you on it?"

"Sounds like," Duke agreed. "We haven't gone into a lot of detail, yet. He wanted me to process the diagnosis first." Which he was doing so well at! "Step one is about establishing safety, though, which . . . I mean, with Haven? Kind of hard."

"Yeah," Octavia agreed, with a a half-suppressed sigh. "But we can work on it."

How? She wasn't sure, considering how randomly abusive Haven had been over the years.

"Knowing you two have my back helps," Duke said, reaching for her hand. "The rest . . . we can work on."

Octavia took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Exactly," she said. "Together."

"Has Luce talked to you about maybe going to the Bahamas soon?" Duke asked, not entirely changing the subject.

Octavia nodded. "Yeah, he did," she said.

Considered what sort of concerns he might have about it.

Added, "I'm okay with it. I'm on board."

Duke nodded. “Good. I think it’ll be good for us.” He gave her a small smile. “I might . . . I kind of want to sail there on the OceaNyx. And meet you two there.”

That was the part he was really worried about their reactions to.

With good reason.

"... What? Why?"

“I think a couple of days on the water alone might help me . . . work through some stuff. Without you two getting hit by the crossfire. The boat’s in good shape, and you know I can sail. I can set out and you two can catch a portal later.”

Octavia... really didn't know what to say to that.

Opened her mouth. Closed it again.

This was frequently when things went sideways. So while Duke tensed, he took a breath.

“Okay, I don’t want to assume. What, uh. What are you thinking?”

"I --"

It was a question easier asked than answered, and even the asking probably hadn't been the easiest.

"I don't want to stop you from doing whatever you feel like you need to do."

Duke nodded. “But you don’t think it’s a good idea?”

This was exactly the sort of question (and answer) that Octavia had been trying to step past.

But:

"No."

Duke swallowed. “Okay.” She was being honest. He was staying calm. This was okay. “Let’s talk about that. Maybe . . . maybe we can make this work for both of us.”

"You want to sail alone."

The way Octavia saw it working out was him doing it and her worrying about it.

Well. Yes. But they could mitigate worry, maybe!

“I do. I used to do it all the time, you know.” He gave her a little smile. “That scares you?”

"You're gonna do it anyway," Octavia replied. Not unkindly, but clearly not comfortable with the conversation, either. Struggling with how to navigate things in ways that didn't involve trying to get her own way and stomping over whatever he wanted. "We don't have to hash it out."

“I’d like to,” Duke agreed. “But maybe there are things we can do to make it less scary for you. I have a radio, I could contact you guys. There’s GPS, so you can see just where I am.”

"Stop calling me scared," Octavia said, abruptly. So much so it seemed to almost take her by surprise.

At least the tone, so.

"Please."

Wow. Okay. (She hates you, you're ruining this -- NO. Duke was not going to let the intrusive thoughts win.)

He blinked at her, surprised, and nodded. "Tell me what you're feeling, then?"

"I feel like I don't want to be having this conversation right now," Octavia replied, much more... reasonable in her tone again. "Do what you want, just -- stay in contact enough we know you're not gone."

As he'd already offered, so that was agreement, sort of.

Duke opened his mouth, twitching his head in a little shake. Then closed it again.

"Okay," he said after a moment. "Can we talk about why you won't talk to me about your feelings instead?"

Octavia was pretty sure she had, in fact, just done that. It felt like she had, anyway.

"What?"

"I've been trying to get a sense of where you're at and every time I ask a direct question, you seem to dodge and just say I'm going to do it anyway so it doesn't matter." Duke wanted to reach for her hand, but that way lay flinches and possible rejections. So he just held his out instead. "It does matter. I don't want to hurt you with this. It's . . . really frustrating. I'm trying really hard to not just make this about what I want and need."

"And I am trying to leave you the space to get whatever it is you need," Octavia returned. She didn't really see the offered hand, staring the way she was at his face. "Without making a big deal out of this."

Duke closed his eyes, huffing a little laugh through his nose.

"We 'Gift of the Magi'd this." He opened his eyes again. "Thank you. For that. But my fucked up brain chemistry is trying to interpret it as you passive aggressively punishing me for doing what I want instead of what you want." His mother had done that a lot when he was a kid. Just shut down and stop talking to him -- stop taking care of him -- when he upset her. "And it's freaking me out."

"I'm trying to protect you," Octavia replied, "from my immediate feelings. So it doesn't feel like I'm trying to... take away your choice or something."

Even if it was a choice she wasn't thrilled with. Even if she was very unsure she'd actually be able to change her feelings, even given time to process them.

"Yeah, that's --" Duke closed his eyes and let out a breath, hand curling into a fist and pulling back in towards his chest. "I really wish you wouldn't do that. Protect me by not telling me things. Even when I ask about them directly."

Octavia crossed her arms over her chest.

Sighed.

"Do you want to be hurt?"

"If it means knowing what's going on with you?" Duke asked. "Then yes. I would rather be hurt."

Octavia nodded. Fine, then.

"This feels unfair," she said. "It's the first time in a long time that I'm feeling fine about a vacation away from here, which I'm pretty sure both of you have been hoping for, and there's this."

She would've called it a curveball if she'd been a little more aware of sports-derived sayings like that.

"And I know it's probably irrational, because I know you've been sailing forever, but the whole idea makes me unconfortable, and then I feel more bad and uncomfortable thinking it is probably irrational, and I tried to get out of this conversation so I could just feel and figure out my feelings in peace before I have to share whatever you actually needed to know."

How was that for some word vomit, then?

"Okay," Duke said, nodding. That didn't sound entirely like it was him she'd been protecting, but it didn't seem like the time to bring that up. "I'm sorry it feels unfair. I knew you wouldn't be thrilled with the idea, but I was hoping that we could talk that through. Find ways maybe to make it less uncomfortable for you. I think . . . maybe we both tend to think things are always all or nothing -- your way or my way. But maybe that doesn't have to be how it is every time."

Dr. Shin had maybe coached him on some of this, yes.

He was free to think back on recent conversations for reasons why Octavia would think he might react with hurt to her calling something like this unfair.

"Does any of that leave me a choice of having the conversation when I've actually had time to think about it?"

Her willingness to admit that her reactions could be irrational, instead of letting him think that she was blaming him for them instead, helped out there a lot.

"Sure," Duke said. "Now that I know why and that you're not -- punishing me."

No really, his mom -- and Evi, for that matter -- had done shit like that all the time.

"Okay," Octavia replied, still vaguely frustrated in her tone, but it was residual and hopefully would pass, "so now can we leave it?"

And Duke was going to do his best to read that for what it was and not, say, frustration that she couldn’t manipulate him to get her way.

“Yeah. What do you want to do instead?”

Thankfully oblivious to any thoughts that she might've been manipulating him when all she'd really wanted had been space to think, Octavia just breathed for a beat.

And then unfurled her arms, and held them out. Invitation, offering, take your pick.

See above, re: his history with his mother and Evi. And also most of Haven. Oh, and feeling crazy. So yeah.

"I can work with that," he said. And leaned into her arms, wrapping his own around her as he did.

Octavia tugged him in firmly as soon as he began to lean her way, and wrapped her arms tight around his waist.

No reason.

Duke closed his eyes and rubbed her back.

He hoped that she saw that conversation as as much of a win as he did. They'd managed not to raise their voices! They'd defused things by talking!

Well. Dr. Shin, at least, would be proud.

Octavia was just trying to remind herself of how his arms felt around her. The rubbing at her back, her face near the curve of his neck, the fabric of his shirt under her hands. How he smelled. The warmth of him.

Just generally breathing him in, through every sense.

Duke kissed her hair. "How are you feeling otherwise?" he asked after a moment. "I do want to know, you know. Even when it's not good."

"I'm fine," Octavia muttered. "There's nothing in particular going on."

The odds of her having any other reply ready to go while her feelings over... everything now were still settling had been slim, to be fair.

Duke nodded, still rubbing her back. “Okay.”

He had every intention of taking her at her word as much as possible.

“Get up to anything fun today?”

Something in Octavia's shoulders relaxed a fraction, at not being pressed to talk more about how she was feeling, right now. "Took a walk along some of the beaches," she replied. "Watched porgs."

"That sounds really nice," Duke said. "I kind of miss the porgs."

They still lived all over the ship. They'd just decided to give him a pretty wide berth, lately.

"They're around," Octavia murmured. "Even Polly."

"Good. Maybe I should start making apologies to them, too."

Octavia finally managed a wry tone. "I think they'll accept food," she said. "And maybe a nice rock."

Polly did so love his rocks.

"Which they will also possibly take as food," Duke said with a laugh. "I remember."

Polly was quite possibly going to sneak onto the OceaNyx when Duke set out.

Octavia thought she could feel his laugh through his chest.

She liked it.

She didn't really realize she was smiling to herself as she said, "A few rocks here and there never hurt anyone, as a treat."

"As a treat," Duke agreed. "Maybe I'll even splurge and get them their own yoga mat to chew on."

Octavia huffed. "Just nothing that will shed microplastics everywhere."

Duke shuddered dramatically. "Absolutely not. Ocean's full of enough of that crap already."

"Just making sure," Octavia told him, and gave him a little extra squeeze with her arms.

Maybe to counteract the shudder, or something.

He would not turn down the squeeze, whatever the reason.

"I am . . . exhausted," he said, nuzzling into her hair. "Let's go cuddle somewhere. Pillow room, maybe."

"Sure, why not," Octavia replied, quietly. Though without seeming in much of a rush to move.

Seeing as that meant pulling away from his chest, and she needed to give that a faint nuzzle, herself.

The galley of the Cape Rouge, Thursday evening

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