For prompts "I'm sorry I complain so much." "I'm your therapist?" for Lucifer, possibly featuring Linda? 🙂
Im so GLAD he has such a healthy relationship with Linda, honestly, because everyone needs that kind of relationship with their therapist (except not....not the beginning part. pls dont fuck your therapist) I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS!!
Uuuuh consider this a little drabble in the Dial Tone Devil world!!
“I don’t understand what could be wrong!” Lucifer threw his hands up and leaned back against the couch, crossing one knee over the other. You watched him from the other end with your arms crossed and your pillow squeezed between them. “I mean, I did apologize about this, didn’t I?” he said to Linda. You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know how else I can fix this!”
“You can start by talking directly to the person you injured with your actions,” Linda answered. Her eyes flicked to you, then to Lucifer. “Right now.”
“I’ve tried!” he exclaimed. “But it’s like I’m talking to a brick wall at times!” You scoffed. He waved his hand to you. “See?”
You turned to face him, drawing your knee up against the back of the couch. “You need to understand that the world doesn’t revolve around you,” you rasped. Your throat hurt, and it wasn’t from talking. You cleared it and picked up the glass of water on the table.
Lucifer sputtered and practically jumped as he faced you as well. He threw his arm over the back of the couch. “I am trying to take care of you while you’re ill, and you throw me out of your apartment!” he states. He doesn’t sound hurt, but you know he is. Otherwise, neither of you would be in front of Linda, arguing about it.
“When I said I needed sleep, I meant that I needed sleep!” you croaked, “Not a babysitter!”
“I can dote,” he points out, “I can take care of a sick patient.”
He scoffed this time and fiddled with his jacket button. “Can’t be the hard,” he muttered. You rolled your eyes. He waved his hand towards you. “I can make soup.” You leveled him with a dull glare. “I’ve made it for the little imp Trixie before.”
“Making soup and heating up Campbells are two different things, Lucifer, and you making them one thing,” you whispered. “I just wanted to sleep, and I didn’t want to get you sick, so that is why I threw you out of my apartment,” you slowly explained.
He swiftly stood, buttoning his coat with deft fingers and the soft exclamation of, “Well I never.” He stepped over your extended foot and pointedly ignored your eye roll. “Then you can stay here! And sleep on the doctor’s couch!”
“It’s my apartment,” you pointed out.
“And I won’t get you medicine that would help you get over this,” he waved his hand at you, “Whatever this is.”
“I’m sure you won’t,” you droned.
He yanked the door open after a few failed attempts. “And I won’t find soup recipes to make because you seem to be perfectly capable of handling yourself when you’re sick!” he cried.
“That’s all I want in life right now,” you mumbled.
Lucifer Morningstar stormed out of the office like a three-year-old, letting the door shut behind him. You lifted the pillow from your lap and pulled it over your face, groaning loudly.
Linda just watched you, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “Well, that was something,” she murmured.
You dropped the pillow. “He’s been upset for four days because I told him that I didn’t want him in my apartment because I was sick,” you stated. You leaned your head back against the couch. “And has been acting like a toddler ever since! I don’t understand!” You lifted your elbow and coughed into it. “I don’t want to get him sick, you know? Not that he would get sick, but still. And he has other things to do!” You huffed at the ceiling. “And now I feel like the bad guy because I told him that I didn’t want him taking care of me, and it’s making me feel like shit and it shouldn’t because I have every right to want to just sleep this off.” Linda said nothing. You let your head loll to the side until your eyes settled on her. “I’m sorry I complain so much.”
“I’m your therapist?” she suggested. You smiled. She wrinkled her nose. “You know he’s going to do all of those things he said he wasn’t going to do, right?” she asked you.
You nodded and threw the pillow across the couch. “I know,” you answered. You covered your face, then finished the water, and stood. “Thank you for listening to me. To us. He’s been a pain in the ass lately.”
She shrugged. “I won’t even charge you.”
“Oh, you’re a peach,” you sarcastically droned. She held up her box of tissues. You took them, waved them at her, and shuffled out the door. Linda sighed.
One of these days, she thought, both of you were going to realize how you felt about each other, and it was going to be one hell of a day.
