okteiviakom | The Galley of the Cape Rouge, Port of Fandom, Laaate Monday/Eaaarly Tuesday

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The Galley of the Cape Rouge, Port of Fandom, Laaate Monday/Eaaarly Tuesday

Octavia hadn't been sleeping well since Thursday. Every dream seemed to inevitably turn to gunshots and bloodshed. Didn't matter who it was about, or where she was: in the end, she was always back in the gorge, watching someone's lifeless body hit the ground.

And when she wasn't trapped in nightmares, she was laying awake in bed, curled around Duke. That was why she knew he wasn't sleeping well either, even though they hadn't talked about it at all. It wasn't like she was around much during the day to talk with, anyway.

She'd been in the sleepless part of this exhausting cycle for a while, now. Until she'd finally given up and slipped out of bed, padding out of the bedroom and into the galley as quiet as she could. Made her way over to the fridge.

Poured herself a glass of orange juice, and leaned her hip against counter with a quiet sigh.

This was gonna be another long night.

[ooc: NFB due to timing, and for the boat dwellers should they so wish.]

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Lucifer had been coming to bed largely because everyone else was going to bed. But his mind was on a roll, trying to piece various parts of a plan together. It made his sleep restless, especially for his standards.

And so the sound of the fridge door opening woke him (slam a door on him? Lock him up? Wha--).

His eyes blinked open and he stared at Duke's hair for a moment.

Duke had been doing that "if I lie here perfectly still with my eyes closed long enough I'll trick my body into sleeping" thing for most of the night. He was having less nightmares, from what he could tell, but he definitely wasn't doing much more actual sleeping than Octavia was. He just felt . . . jittery, most nights. Like he was missing something or had forgotten something. Or like if he didn't rethink every moment of everything he'd ever said to anyone he loved, they'd all change their minds and start hating him instead.

It was hard to convince yourself that that was irrational when you'd had people you loved decide to hate you before.

When Octavia got up, Duke continued to lie there for a little while longer, then slowly sat up himself. He rubbed his hands over his face and sighed, and wondered if there was literally anything left on this boat that could still use a little tinkering by now.

Octavia listened to the quiet of the ship. Her eyes flicked towards the bedroom door, for no real reason, but there was nothing.

Just... the usual little noises of a ship in port.

Almost felt peaceful, if you didn't think about how her night had been going so far.

Lucifer sighed, rolling onto his back.

And then onto his other side, as he reached for the whiskey on the nightstand.

Duke glanced back at him, watching him for a long moment. Debating asking him to share.

He’d drunk too much lately, though, and if he started up now he couldn’t guarantee he’d stop before he was trashed again. So he got up, tugged on a ragged old pair of shorts, and shuffled out to the galley for some water.

Octavia, now halfway through her large glass of juice, heard him coming just a little before he appeared.

She shouldn't have felt relieved he wasn't Lucifer.

(Especially when there was still something weighing heavily on her with him, too.)

She gave him a tiny, tired nod, and took another sip.

Lucifer sat up in bed, and took a swig from the bottle.

(He was thinking about Los Xes.)

Duke nodded back at Octavia and filled a glass with water. He leaned on the counter next to her and drank it slowly. He couldn’t say why, but it felt important just now not to break the silence.

Octavia didn't seem very inclined to break it, either. Kept slowly sipping from her glass, instead.

Maybe drawing it out a little.

Eventually, Lucifer got up.

And trudged down the hallway, back into the office.

Duke looked over, tracking Lucifer's progress by sound.

He let out a low sigh.

"Here comes Wagner again."

"Yeah," Octavia muttered, glancing up, then down at her glass again.

She barely knew what Lucifer was working on, but she'd heard the music before.

As if on cue, the music started up again, that same insistent crescendo. Duke winced faintly and drank a little more of his water.

"Guess if we're not sleeping, he might as well get some work done."

Octavia closed her eyes with a sigh. Then opened them again, with a look in the general direction of the office.

"Guess we're not even trying."

Duke glanced over at her. "I could keep pretending to if you want me to, but, uh. No. Doesn't look like it."

Another sigh. Softer, smaller. Then Octavia moved her glass from one hand to the other, and let her newly free hand drop to her side... Where it could try and reach to the side, to brush against his.

And she was still looking towards the office.

"What is he even doing in there?"

Beyond making it really easy for her to keep a little bit of a distance between them. Not that she'd fully realized she was doing that in the first place.

Duke brushed her fingers in return, but otherwise let her set the pace for touching. He looked off into the middle distance with a shrug.

"Plotting his revenge on Detective Douche."

The nickname was said with an admirable Lucifer impression, complete with savoring the word douche.

Practically uncanny. Octavia wasn't sure she liked it.

But that wasn't what had her turning her head to frown at him, once she'd actually processed what he'd said.

"What?"

"So far it seems to feature Mexico, a snake, and a fake head in a box," Duke said, not noticing the little increase in her tension. "It's very elaborate."

"Why?"

Was the answer 'because Lucifer'? 'Cause it kind of felt like it would be.

"Because it's easier for him to think about that than about what no being vulnerable around Chloe means," Duke said. "That's my guess, anyway."

So... 'Because Lucifer'.

"Right," Octavia breathed, and looked towards the office again.

She wasn't sure how she felt about that. Maybe she was too exhausted for clear feelings, anyway.

Feelings were hard. Especially when you were tired.

"He's, uh. Definitely still vulnerable to us," Duke said softly, still carefully not looking at the office. "Case you were wondering."

Speaking of things you didn't know how you felt about.

"I wasn't."

Was that a lie?

She wasn't sure.

"Ah." Duke nodded. Didn't look at her. "I, uh. I was."

Somehow the fear of losing Lucifer to a bullet had gotten warped around to a fear of losing Lucifer -- or Octavia or anyone else -- to just. Being himself. And Lucifer's vulnerability was clearly a sign of how much he cared about someone, at least as far as Duke could tell.

It was almost easier, really. Having these provable metaphorical symbols instead of just having to trust that someone was telling him the truth when they said they loved him.

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