Duke Crocker (
betterthanaplan) wrote2024-12-19 10:53 am
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The galley of the Cape Rouge, Thursday evening
Duke had had some time since his last therapist appointment to start slowly processing what his therapist had said. Specifically what the man had said about what he believed was the foundation of Duke's issues. A diagnosis if you will.
Which Duke had finally made time to look up and read about after getting home from the diner. And mull over over a cup of tea.
Sure, it wasn't the first time someone had suggested that he had PTSD. He'd kind of just assumed he had that, by now. But C-PTSD. The complex version. The one most associated with survivors of hostage situations or child abuse.
He sipped his tea and stared into space. And wished it didn't make as much sense to him as it did. Wished he didn't check off quite as many of the usual symptoms as he did.
"Fuck."
[for the partners if they wanna]
Which Duke had finally made time to look up and read about after getting home from the diner. And mull over over a cup of tea.
Sure, it wasn't the first time someone had suggested that he had PTSD. He'd kind of just assumed he had that, by now. But C-PTSD. The complex version. The one most associated with survivors of hostage situations or child abuse.
He sipped his tea and stared into space. And wished it didn't make as much sense to him as it did. Wished he didn't check off quite as many of the usual symptoms as he did.
"Fuck."
[for the partners if they wanna]
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He'd thought about that part, Luce! Admittedly he could have thought about it harder, but still.
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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.
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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."
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"I guess I could . . . portal down to Georgia or something. Cut out the Mid-Atlantic."
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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.
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"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."
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"Wait, really?"
He'd . . . still been pretty sure he would not be brought in on that with Octavia, yeah.
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Read: he was the least likely to trip anyone's landmines in the bedroom.
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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."
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"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.
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"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.
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"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."
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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.
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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."
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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."
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"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."
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