Duke Crocker (
betterthanaplan) wrote2021-02-14 12:55 pm
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Entry tags:
The Cape Rouge, Port of Fandom, Sunday evening
Duke wasn't usually one to put much stock into holidays like Valentine's Day. Last year's had very nearly been a disaster, for instance. But Octavia was clearly feeling a little extra in-the-dumps right now, and Lucifer had sent him an enormous, gorgeous, queer bouquet, and Duke felt inspired.
He spent the day setting it up. Went through his hold and pulled out all the plushest, richest fabrics he could find. Fuzzy blankets and brocade curtains and lots of soft Persian rugs. He draped his galley, transforming the usually cool, open space full of hard surfaces into something warm and exotic, like the interior of a Mongolian yurt. He lit the space with candles and oil lamps and paper lanterns, and set Lucifer's bouquet prominently on the coffee table. To eat, he had berries and chocolate and oysters rockefeller, with wine and absinthe and some other items to help them all relax and feel good. There were soft cushions everywhere (including the stuffed shark and sun and moon pillows from last year's pillow forts, with the inclusion of a little velvet star-shaped cushion he'd picked up on a whim), and even a few vintage furs.
It was, he felt, about as cozy and warm and romantic (and hopefully not too fish scented) as his boat was going to get. Now all he needed were his partners.
He sent Lucifer a text (come over, bring octavia), figuring Octavia wouldn't rouse easily on her own, then settled in to wait, and second guess every single choice he'd made in decorating, worrying it would come across as too much.
He distracted himself with his guitar to keep from trying to tear it all down again, and waited.
[for the guests!]
He spent the day setting it up. Went through his hold and pulled out all the plushest, richest fabrics he could find. Fuzzy blankets and brocade curtains and lots of soft Persian rugs. He draped his galley, transforming the usually cool, open space full of hard surfaces into something warm and exotic, like the interior of a Mongolian yurt. He lit the space with candles and oil lamps and paper lanterns, and set Lucifer's bouquet prominently on the coffee table. To eat, he had berries and chocolate and oysters rockefeller, with wine and absinthe and some other items to help them all relax and feel good. There were soft cushions everywhere (including the stuffed shark and sun and moon pillows from last year's pillow forts, with the inclusion of a little velvet star-shaped cushion he'd picked up on a whim), and even a few vintage furs.
It was, he felt, about as cozy and warm and romantic (and hopefully not too fish scented) as his boat was going to get. Now all he needed were his partners.
He sent Lucifer a text (come over, bring octavia), figuring Octavia wouldn't rouse easily on her own, then settled in to wait, and second guess every single choice he'd made in decorating, worrying it would come across as too much.
He distracted himself with his guitar to keep from trying to tear it all down again, and waited.
[for the guests!]
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(He seemed to be occupying himself just fine, but it didn't hurt to add to that.)
And while she kept up her petting, she fished one of the pills out of the bag, then set the baggy back down.
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“Wish it was long enough to braid again.”
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Might as well try. For them.
(A little for her.)
She didn't answer Lucifer. Just looked at Duke while her fingers brushed over his hair, then a little bit through them. And then she leaned in to press a soft kiss against his lips.
She could pretend that was why she'd asked him to close his eyes, right?
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He was very distractable right now though, so what he said was “you taste nice.”
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But he returned, large serving plate in hand, fruit on one side and shellfish on the other. "They taste very good," he said, setting the plate down on the table.
And sank down next to Duke.
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“This is one of my favorite places.”
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She didn't know.
And now it didn't matter, because she let Duke tug her against himself. She settled in, and said nothing, although she did give his words a vague hum.
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His hand wound up on Octavia's shoulder somewhere.
He kissed the side of Duke's head, where he could actually get to it.
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Just to say something.
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Octavia's voice was all soft rasp, really. And quiet.
"This... sandwich."
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He... may have started nuzzling that distracting stubble on Duke's cheek now, yes.
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Well, her hand did hover near the oysters for a second, there. But no, berries it was.
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More than somewhat.
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This conversation was just fascinating, wasn’t it.
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Sure.
Octavia settled back down against Duke, quietly eating her berries. Just... listening. Waiting, maybe.
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She closed her eyes, tried to relax into it further. The weight of Duke's arm, the weight of Lucifer's hand at her shoulder. Their voices, so comfortingly familiar in her ears.
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