okteiviakom | Lucifer's Mansion, Friday Evening

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Lucifer's Mansion, Friday Evening

With the trip over, it was time to return back to normal routines: work, sure, but also date nights. So that was what Octavia and Duke were back at the house for.

And now, another meal of tasty takeout was nearly over. Pasta, this time, with the sort of messy (but delicious) sauce that had made even Octavia feel like they needed to eat at the table, for once, instead of the couch. It had only been once they'd been seated that she'd realized there was something about it that felt weird to her - as if there was something thoroughly 'dinner on the couch' about it being just the two of them.

But considering how date nights tended to work out, maybe a touch of distance in these early parts actually made a certain amount of sense. So. She hadn't moved.

"Oh, right, I got something for dessert," she said, once her plate was empty, and her fork was set down. "Earlier."

She'd spent part of her day on the mainland.

(Another way of settling back into the everyday.)

[ooc: For that guy. The nautical one.]

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“Oh yeah?” Duke asked, wiping his face with a napkin. (They had in the past not even made it out of the kitchen to the couch, he was proud of them for eating all classy-like today. “Do tell.”

"I went back to the bakery," Octavia replied, as she pushed her chair back. Had to get up to get things, after all. "You know, with the pineapple jam?"

A tiny pause.

"Well, the place that does the original of the things with the pineapple jam."

"Uh huh," Duke said. "Did you buy more of the pineapple jam things? Because yours were great."

He wasn't sure he wanted to compare them to the professionally made ones.

"I bought some pineapple jam things," Octavia replied, making her way over to where she could grab the little paper bag. "But they're not the same ones."

She came back to the table, and held the bag out.

"I thought we'd try them out," she said, "and see if they're also worth trying to make them at home."

"Ooo!" Duke took the bag and peeked in. "They're like . . . little South American stroopwafels!"

"... They're what?"

Poor Octavia had never had the pleasure.

"It's a Dutch thing. That looks a lot like these," Duke said easily. "Sugary goop in little pressed dough sandwich things. Good stuff!"

"Uh huh, okay," Octavia replied, not sounding terribly convinced. Still, she returned to her seat. "Well, try one of these and tell me how it compares."

Duke picked one out and broke it into two, passing her the (slightly) larger piece. "We should both try some. And I'll tell you how it compares."

The look on Octavia's face softened immediately as he offered her the other piece. It got to her, she couldn't help it.

Her fingers brushed against his as she accepted what was offered. "Okay."

He knew. He loved the look on her face when he got something right with sharing food.

He kept his eyes on hers as he took his first bite.

"Ooo, that's nice."

"Is it?" Octavia murmured, her eyes on his face, watching his reaction.

She took her own bite without looking away. Savored it, as usual. The sweetness, the tang of pineapple.

She sighed. "I agree."

"It's tangier than stroopwafel," he offered thoughtfully. "The dough, not just the jam. I really like it." He smiled at her. "You could definitely make your own. Maybe we could even try making our own jam for it, too."

"You wanna help me make jam?"

It was a simple process that didn't actually require assistance. That was not going to keep her from asking.

"I would love to." He'd love to work with her on any number of projects, let's be real. "I know a guy who can get us some really nice pineapples."

Octavia looked like she was about to ask something, only to catch herself right at the last secon, amused. "Of course you've got a pineapple guy," she said, because yeah, that. "You should get in touch with him. I can't grow one of those for us."

Incidentally, he was going to end up with a lot of chances to work with her once the new garden season kicked off again.

"Not around here," Duke agreed. "Not without a full on greenhouse." A beat. "Which I feel like we probably could have built, but . . . I've got a pineapple guy."

So they didn't need one, just for those.

"So call your pineapple guy," Octavia replied, faintly amused.

And reached for another piece from the bag.

Duke laughed. “What, right now?”

Octavia pretended to consider it while she took a bite.

And then: "Not right now," she said. "I think we should probably focus on each other tonight, not some random guy that has good pineapples."

“Briyon gona.” Duke grinned. “And what would you like to do with that focus, tonight?”

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Octavia replied, with a touch of something wry in her lopsided little smile. It didn't linger, though - but the smile did. "But I thought we could go sprawl on Lucifer's bed upstairs and... Talk. And see where the mood takes us."

“That sounds like an excellent start,” Duke said. “May I suggest nudity, for our sprawl and talk?”

Octavia snorted, softly, amused. "I could've called that."

A beat.

"But yes, you may."

“What can I say? I like to be nude.” He popped a last bite of dessert in his mouth, then offered her his hand. “Shall we?”

Octavia took his hand. Her other one reached for the bag.

She simply nodded, with a smile, already getting to her feet.

“I’d offer to carry you,” Duke said, “but I think I’ll let that stay Luce’s thing.”

Instead he lead her, keeping hold of her hand, up the stairs to the master bedroom.

Octavia let him. She even swallowed her comments about how she'd been carried by him before and wasn't interested in letting that be assigned as anyone's 'thing' because there was a sense of safety and comfort in it always.

She just kept a firm hold on his hand all the way upstairs, where she dropped the bag on the bed, where it'd be in easy reach for any potential snacking.

Duke turned to face her as he stopped and as soon as her hand was free, he reached for it.

“I’d like to take your shirt off, now. If that’s alright with you.”

"More than alright."

It was a baggy t-shirt type situation. Something soft and casual, for this date night.

That made it nice and easy for Duke to slip his hands under it and slide it up — with his wrists, primarily, as he let his full palms graze across her skin.

Octavia's own hands settled onto his shoulders, for the time being. Out of the way but still establishing a little bit of connection in their own right, while her eyes watched his face.

She shivered faintly under his touch.

Duke paused at the shiver, then started again, more slowly. Easing his way to the base of her ribs where the shirt billowed out over her breasts.

He was watching her face in return, lips curved up in a small smile.

A little further up, and he was going to find a bra. Octavia found herself regretting that choice a little bit, now.

But she let that thought go.

"What're you thinking about?" she murmured.

Gently curious, for no particular reason.

“You,” Duke said. “How soft your skin is. How you look up at me like . . .” He trailed off and chuckled. “Like you love me.”

That was kind of big. Recognizing the expression and knowing it was for him. Even after all these years.

That answer made Octavia's smile go both wider and softer.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she murmured, like a tease, but an incredibly gentle one. "It's because I do."

With all her heart.

Duke wrinkled his nose, delighted. “I thought that might be it.”

He slid his fingers along the band of her bra, checking for clasps by feel. He fully intended to get it off with the shirt, if he could.

He was in luck: there were clasps in the back, ordinary and easy.

Meanwhile, Octavia leaned up, a little closer to him.

"Ai hod yu in," she whispered, "bigwoda."

Yesss. He had it open in a moment but paused again to lean in and grab a kiss.

“Aihod you in, natshana.”

Then he leaned back so he could finish taking off that shirt, bra and all.

Helpfully, Octavia held her arms up.

She also kept watching his face for as long as she could.

(The shirt passing over her head put a pretty obvious, if temporary, stop to that.)

Just another reason why shirts were a mistake, in Duke’s opinion.

“There we go,” he murmured as he tossed the shirt and bra aside. He brought his hands back to gently cup her breasts as he went for another kiss.

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Lucifer's Mansion, Friday Evening

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