okteiviakom | The Deck of the Cape Rouge, Late Wednesday Morning

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The Deck of the Cape Rouge, Late Wednesday Morning

As far as Octavia was concerned, it was a perfectly normal day. She'd woken up, had breakfast, and had just now rolled out her mat on a nice spot on the deck and was getting started on a little bit of yoga to get the day going.

Or, at least she had been: there was a rustling that seemed to be coming closer along the docks, catching her attention.

She squinted towards the approaching form. "What the... ?"

[ooc: For those two guys who aren't going to like this.]

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Oh don't worry, narrative, Duke was absolutely doing so. As soon as he confirmed the thing was moving away even a little, he lunged backwards, grabbing the pipe he'd propped the galley door open with, and swinging it up at the hyena thing's jaw.

If it turned out this was in fact Octavia, he'd apologize profusely later. And maybe invest in a taser. Or like. A tranquilizer gun. (Or several, and stash them all over the boat alongside his regular guns, and some cattle prods, maybe load some of the regular guns with rubber bullets too? And something that could take down Lucifer if he ended up going evil for some reason? Something nonviolent of course and this wasn't the time for this particular thought spiral right now, Duke, refocus, your boyfriend is BLEEDING. . . .)

Still bleeding. Lucifer had sort of forgotten about the whole 'able to hurt me' bit, what with neither of his partners really feeling a drive to stab or maul or otherwise wound him in recent years.

He spat up a bit of blood, and felt the first inkling of something beginning to knit together.

Tried to sit up.

Laid back down.

What...?

The hyena stumbled backwards with the hit, and snarled as it tried to take a swipe at Duke.

Thankfully, it was just a little too far, and its vision was blurry.

The pipe hit had clearly done something. So Duke hit it again.

And would keep hitting it as much as he needed to to get it to stop swinging at them.

Lucifer spat another mouthful of blood onto the deck. "This is beginning to be unpleasant," he muttered, or tried to.

But he had a hand on the deck now, and he was pushing himself up.

What a coincidence: Octavia was going down!

Of course it was really the hyena, first, getting that one last fateful impact from the pipe and stumbling over. Then, it was Octavia thumping against the deck.

Looking completely fine, but very much unconscious.

And there was Duke, dropping the pipe. And the gun.

And staring wide-eyed at his unconscious snogon on the deck, and his boyfriend's blood on the deck, and the bullet holes in the deck, and working very very hard on not hyperventilating over all of it.

He swallowed thickly. (Can't hyperventilate if you're not breathing?) "Well. That answers the 'is it actually Octavia' question, anyway."

He was maybe going to be sick.

"Yes," Lucifer panted. He'd managed to stretch himself upright. "I'll just. Bring her in. Shall I?"

"Is she bleeding?" Duke asked. He flicked his gaze over to Lucifer himself before going back to cycling through the other points of interest again. "If not I can do it. I should do it. You're --"

He gestured helplessly at the rips and blood that wouldn't magically go away even as the injuries did.

"If she's not bleeding I can help."

"I'm still stronger than you, darling, and you look like you need a stiff drink and some time counting the tiles in the sauna," Lucifer grunted.

Just a few steps. And there he was. Lifting her up. Carefully.

Duke wanted to insist. Would insist, would physically take Octavia from him -- but he couldn't get close, because Lucifer was covered in blood.

The deck was covered in blood.

And Duke was useless when there was blood around.

He shoved his hand into his hair, squeezing his eyes shut, and nodded.

"Make sure she's okay. And if she wakes up before I'm -- tell her I'm sorry."

Lucifer made a-- moderately frustrated noise. "Duke, I am going straight into the bathroom and I'm making sure she's clean," he said. "You can tell her you're sorry yourself in about ten minutes or so. Let's not make this any bigger than it already is."

At least it felt like the big gaping chest wound had healed.

He turned around, Octavia in his arms. "Now go on ahead to the bedroom. I don't want to risk bleeding on anything on my way in."

Let's be real here, Luce, Duke apparently just beat one of his partners unconscious with a pipe, they were both lucky he wasn't spiraling harder than he was.

"Right." He nodded again, sharper this time, and hurried past Lucifer into the boat proper, careful not to brush against him as he went. He'd prep the bed, get out one of his insanely large first aid kits. Some painkillers and ice packs. (Nitron gloves so he could check Lucifer over in case the wounds hadn't closed up properly for some reason.) A radio, so they could check what the squirrels might be saying.

Booze. A lot of it.

Okay then.

And Lucifer, still feeling entirely more pain than he'd ever done in his life, somehow managed to carry Octavia down into the ship, and even all the way into the bathroom.

As he ran the shower, he vowed quietly to himself not to lie, but to simply save the truth of just how bloody much everything hurt right now for about five thousand years or so. Duke would be over it by then, surely.

That was a nice thought there, Luce. Maybe it would even come true.

He had a lot more trauma coming down the pipe someday, that'd probably help!

For now he was busy working on compartmentalizing it all by being useful. So there was that, at least.

True to his word, it didn't take Lucifer more than about ten minutes to get himself and Octavia out of their blood-spattered clothes-- and to wipe them both down.

"Would you mind passing us some clothes?" he asked, sticking his head out of the bathroom for a moment.

Duke already had a change ready for both of them, in fact! Octavia's go to tank and leggings for a quiet day at home, and a nice soft shirt and trousers for Lucifer that he hoped would look nice without bothering any lingering wounds.

"Here you go. She's still out?"

How hard had he hit her? If he'd given her a TBI. . . .

"Yes," Lucifer sighed, snatching Octavia's clothes first. She cared more for that sort of thing. "But at least she's sleeping peacefully, it looks like."

"'Sleeping'," Duke echoed dryly. "Luce, I'm not a child. I hit her with a pipe, she's not 'sleeping'."

Was that a comically-timed, tiny, soft snore?

Yes. Yes it was.

". . . Ah." Duke's knees felt funny. He covered by going to sit down on the edge of the bed. "Okay. Good then."

"Under any circumstance I'd be angry at you for accusing me of lying," Lucifer said irritably. (He was still a little annoyed.)

He got her into her tank, and then-- carefully slid the leggings up her legs.

Duke winced. “Sorry.”

He went back to ~~fussing with~~ prepping the supplies he’d gathered.

With Octavia dressed, Lucifer eyed the clothes Duke had gotten him.

...

He yanked on the trousers (that shirt did not match), and finally left the bathroom with Octavia in his hands. "There we are."

How silly of Duke to have prioritized comfort.

He looked up, eyes drawn first to Octavia — still clearly sleeping — and then to Lucifer’s bare chest.

“Are you okay?”

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