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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Beat.
"These oysters are delicious."
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He had kicked Octavia out, though, hadn't he.
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Octavia was letting them hash this one out amongst themselves, only making a small noise at how Duke's twisting jostled her lean.
-- the next everyone you've ever known and loved wants to see you burn.
That, too.
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"We had the conversation and nothing terrible happened, that's the point."
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Really just wanted the molly to kick in already. If it was even going to, with how much of a shroud there was hanging in front of everything.
She kept her eyes closed. Remembered about the berries still in her hand, and ate those.
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"Please don't," he said, "You'll get horribly murdered."
He kissed Duke.
He was too distractable to notice Octavia's sagging over there.
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"Why does everything want to horribly murder me?" he asked idly. "Seems unfair."
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Octavia inhaled, then slowly pulled away. And stood up.
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Picked it up.
Brought it back with her.
And took up her spot again, this time hugging the big plushie to her chest. All without saying a word, or even looking at them.
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For a moment.
And another moment.
Then: "Awww."
And: "We should hug her."
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And then he turned to glomp onto her. Gently, in case she objected, but undeniably, his chin moving to rest on her shoulder.
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It felt warm, his hugging. And the oversized plush in her arms was soft.
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He rose carefully from his seat, stepped around the table, and sank down next to her.
And hugged her that way.
"You are," he said, very sincerely, "The best Octavia that I have."
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Oh.
It sounded a little wobbly.
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Lucifer was better at the poetic stuff than he was, especially under the influence.
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Guess who was finally feeling a little something? Go on, guess.
It was the same person currently biting on the inside of her bottom lip.
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He wasn't even thinking about the dirty insinuations this time.
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Not when it was so soft.
Not when she was wrapped up in warmth like this, their voices so sweet in her ears.
Her inhale was a little noisy with how shuddery it was.
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A pause.
"And because you feel good."
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