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quickspinner · 9 months ago

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This is Crazy

Hey @haphira I'm your @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers secret admirer! I hope you enjoy this! The prompt I picked was "0 to married - blind date or one night stand turns into a three day date and married at the end." I also threw in a touch of Alya gets into Marinette's love life, just for fun.

Summary: Marinette's tired and frustrated. Work isn't going well, her social life is dead, and she doesn't believe in fairy tales anymore. When Alya insists there is someone who wants to meet her after the concert tonight, she figures at least it's a distraction from her boring life. She's not expecting the hottest rising rock star on the planet to walk through those doors--or anything that happens after that.

Rating: M for fade-to-black sexytimes and language

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | AO3

She felt ridiculous, now that she was here. Alone in this fancy lounge with its dim lighting and collection of fancy backlit bottles, dressed like—well. Like herself, but a version of herself that was maybe trying a bit too hard. Marinette adjusted her bustier top, checked for the thousandth time that the zipper that ran up the front was still snugged up at the top and not about to fall down.

She wished she had worn a longer skirt. The knee length ones restricted her movement more than she liked, and full-length wouldn’t have been appropriate for this venue, but she was constantly checking to make sure her miniskirt hadn’t ridden up a little bit too much.

But these were the kinds of clothes one wore at a rock concert—and it had been a good concert, Marinette had to admit. She’d had a lot more fun than she expected, and if she could have been riding the metro home now with her girls, chatting about the music and the hot musicians, she would have considered the outfit a low price to pay.

She wasn’t, though. She was standing here alone in a private lounge, waiting for…someone. She didn’t know who. Alya had insisted it was a surprise, and that the person really wanted to see her, and had heavily implied that whoever this— male , Alya had made sure she knew—someone was very much interested in Marinette. You know, in that way. That all Marinette had to do was be hot and sweet and she was guaranteed that this mystery someone would… insert eyebrow waggle .

Well. Marinette hadn’t had any eyebrow waggling in long enough that she let herself be talked into it. Even if this mystery someone wasn’t someone she could see herself with long term, maybe she could get some much needed…stress relief. At least Alya’s insistence on setting her up could be good for something.

If the mystery man ever showed up. Marinette was feeling more and more stupid by the moment. Waiting always felt longer than it was, she reminded herself, but she was also starting to feel uncomfortably like she had been stood up.

She eyed the self-serve bar at the back of the lounge and went to investigate, unsure if she was looking for liquid courage or something to drown her disappointment in. There had sure been a lot of disappointments for her lately. Most recently, she’d had a hugely important order canceled at the last minute, which was the only reason she had time for this concert. She should have been at home being her workaholic self, and the gut-wrenching disappointment she’d felt when the client told her they had changed their mind and decided to go with someone else wasn’t easy to shake.

Marinette sighed and poured herself a drink.

She was leaning back against the bar, sipping a small glass of gin, when the door opened, and she started.

She recognized the man who entered immediately, and her mouth dropped open a little. Was that—it couldn’t be. Her whole body flushed hot with the thought no way, this can’t be happening .

He was imminently recognizable, though, and even if he hadn’t looked just like his posters, she had just spent two hours staring at him on stage.

“Oh, sorry,” he said reflexively as he came in, and Marinette smiled.

“It’s okay, I just needed a quick drink.” She set the gin glass down on the bar. “I’m, um. I’m Marinette.”

“Marinette,” he said, advancing into the room and glancing around like he was expecting someone else. Marinette swallowed and tried not to look down. God, this was embarrassing. Well, he was the one who supposedly wanted to meet her, right? Though, knowing who he was now—an internationally famous rock star, well…who knows what Alya told him. The real thing was guaranteed to be a disappointment.

He approached the bar, finally, with an air of resignation, but clearly determined to at least be polite. “Nice to meet you. I’m Luka.”

Marinette giggled nervously. “Well, obviously.”

He blinked at her like he was finally focusing on her, and smiled. “Right.” His eyes swept over her, and she didn’t miss the appreciation there. That perked her up a little. Luka had changed from his stage clothes into a faded ripped shirt and equally ratty but comfortable-looking pants. She might have been offended that he hadn’t put in more effort for her, but he had just been on stage for hours under those awful lights, so she didn’t blame him for wanting to be comfortable.

Besides, he was really, really, hot. Not necessarily conventionally handsome; some of his features took a little getting used to, but he was interesting, as well as being tall and very fit. One had to be, she supposed, being on display the way rock stars always were.

Oh shit he was talking to her. “Mind if I join you?” he was asking, gesturing across the bar between them. “I’m parched.”

“Oh, of course,” Marinette said, moving sideways instinctively even before he came behind the bar. Ugh, she sounded like an idiot. The space wasn’t very wide and she had basically backed into it instead of coming out, so she leaned back against the bar, trying to arrange herself in a way that was casually attractive instead of unbearably awkward or brazenly sex-starved.

Luka, meanwhile, examined the backlit bottles, and then with a slight shake of his head, turned towards Marinette again. She liked the way his eyes flicked over her and then away, like he was trying not to stare. She wasn’t doing such a good job keeping her eyes to herself either, so she decided to just brazen it out.

“Don’t see anything you like?” she dared to ask, with a slight quirk of her eyebrow.

Something in his stance shifted, like her attempt at flirtation had put him on firmer ground. “Actually, I think I see exactly what I need.” He advanced towards her and Marinette’s heart jumped into her throat. She hadn’t expected him to take the bait that quickly.

He stopped just short of her, and gestured at the glasses hanging above her. “May I?”

His voice was rough, which she supposed was to be expected after the performance he had given. God, he was even hotter up close. If conversation was going nowhere, at least she wanted to get something out of this. What difference did it make what he thought of her after tonight, anyway? “Of course,” she said, putting her hands on the bar and leaning back. She watched his eyes follow her, flicking down at the suddenly very low neckline of her bustier once before he looked up again. He took another step forward, so that he was brushing up against her as he reached over her to snag a glass and bring it down. He didn’t back away as he set it on the counter, and Marinette couldn’t help grinning at him. He leaned in a little more to reach behind her for the carafe of water sitting there.

“Did you enjoy the show?” he asked, still not backing off as he poured his glass of water.

“Very much,” Marinette said honestly. “To be honest, it was the first time I’ve heard your music. I’m definitely a fan now.”

“Are you?” he murmured, meeting her eyes for a moment, and she watched as he lifted the water glass to his lips and took a long drink.

“Definitely,” she said a little breathlessly, aware that she was ogling him shamelessly.

He made a thoughtful noise in his throat. “How many of those have you had?” He asked, before drinking again.

Marinette lifted her own glass. “Just this one.” Out of habit, she turned it so that the existing lip print on the glass matched where she sipped. It was Luka’s turn to swallow and stare, and then he set his water glass down decisively. He put his hands on the bar at either side of Marinette’s hips, and leaned down a little.

“Just to be clear,” he murmured, looking down at her with heavily lidded eyes. “Are you coming on to me? Because,” he continued, as a hot blush flooded up her face, “you are gorgeous and I’m horny as hell after that,” he tipped his head back to indicate the show he had just finished. “So assuming you are, I’d really like to continue this somewhere more private. As soon as possible.”

Marinette couldn’t help a grin, and she looked over her shoulder to eye the completely empty room. “It’s looking pretty private here,” she suggested, mostly just to buy time to figure out if she was really doing this.

“It won’t be for as long as I plan to need privacy,” he told her, leaning his hips harder into hers, and she bit her lip and made a sound in her throat that made him shiver. Fuck. Okay, she was definitely doing this.

“Well, if you insist,” she said breathlessly, and then his hands were on her waist, pulling her hard into him for a moment before he turned her to guide her out of the room.

***

Luka left Marinette in the bed, with a kiss and a whispered promise to be back, and went to shower. He sighed when he stepped into the warm spray, and smiled to himself. Despite the exhaustion now dragging at him, he felt good . The show had been amazing, and Marinette had given him exactly what he needed to top off the night. Shows always left him either feeling so drained and worn out that he wanted nothing more than to go to bed, or else put him on a high that made it impossible to sleep without some kind of release.

He’d actually thought tonight was going to be the low kind until he ducked into the closed lounge, too desperate for a drink to mind the ‘closed’ sign on the door. Then he saw Marinette leaning against the bar, illuminated by the backlighting like a work of art in a museum.

He hadn’t even had enough blood left in his brain to wonder why she was hanging out in the dimly lit, supposedly closed lounge. He was suddenly thirsty in an entirely different way.

It was an impulsive decision to invite her to come back to his room, but those were often his best, and he definitely had no reason to regret it now. His smile turned into a self-satisfied grin and he tilted his head back to wet his hair. Definitely no regrets there.

He shouldn’t take too long, though, or she might think he was trying to get rid of her. He cleaned himself up quickly. He almost wished he’d invited her to shower with him, but he needed this quiet moment after everything that had happened that night, and the hotel shower wasn’t really big enough for two. That was one thing he was looking forward to for the next leg of their tour; American hotel showers weren’t nearly so cramped.

Even as he thought it he found himself wishing then that they were staying in Paris a little longer. He wouldn’t have minded seeing Marinette again. She had this mix of sweetness and sexy that was very appealing to him and he could think of a few more things he’d enjoy doing with her. He felt a little shiver at the memory of her moans. He could listen to her sweet little whimpers for hours, and the beautiful crescendo had been satisfying in more ways than one. Her dazed smile afterward…he wanted to make her smile like that again.

The band was scheduled to leave tomorrow afternoon, though. They’d both known this was only a night.

Luka frowned. She had known that, right? Normally he made sure anyone who was with knew whether he was looking for temporary or long term, but he hadn’t really taken time for much more conversation than was related to the business at hand. He’d have to let her down gently if she’d been expecting more. Luka wasn’t exactly in a position to commit to anything else right now.

He sighed, turning off the water. He didn’t really want to have that conversation, but he didn’t want to string her along with a long-distance promise either…

Dumbass, he scolded himself as he dried off, and prepared to roll with whatever he found when he got out of the shower.

What he found was Marinette, sitting on the edge of the bed in a pool of soft lamplight, and biting her lip as she played with her fingers. She tried to smile at him, but she pulled the edges of the sheet wrapped around her a little tighter. Honestly, that just made her more appealing, with her shapely legs bare and just the important bits of her covered up, like one of those marble statues in the Louvre, only better, because she had color and breath, warmth and softness. He felt a song tickling at the back of his mind as he took in the line of her neck and shoulders, her mussed hair, and…her eyes. Her eyes turned up to him and his breath caught. He swallowed, and looked away, aware that his staring was making her uncomfortable. Her body language was closed and nervous, and he could imagine that she was feeling pretty vulnerable, in his room with no clothes on and clearly not sure what she should do next.

Luka picked up her unzipped top and miniskirt from the floor, and laid them over a chair with a small smile at the memories they conjured. “These are beautiful, on or off you,” he winked at her, and she blushed and ducked her head a little, which he found unreasonably charming, “but I can’t imagine they’ll be comfortable to sleep in. Hang on, I’ll grab you something.”

He found a clean shirt and sweatpants to pull on before he turned back to Marinette with another one of his t-shirts and a clean pair of boxers in his hands. He came to sit on the bed next to her and offered her the clothes, smiling at her whispered thanks.

“I should, um,” she paused to pull the shirt over her head, and Luka couldn’t make himself look away from the sheet that slipped down her body as he did so. That was definitely going in the song too, he decided. “I should probably go, though, right?”

“Do you have a room in the hotel?” he asked, and she blinked in surprise, and shook her head, sliding his shorts up over her legs.

“No, I live—I live in Paris. I can just take the metro home, or—”

Luka frowned. “At this time of night?” He reached out and stroked her hair back, and she relaxed a little at the tender touch, smiling at him. She definitely felt more confident now that she was covered, and she turned towards him a little as she answered.

“I’m a big girl,” she said. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“If you really want to go, I’ll call you a cab, but I’d be happy for you to stay the night here with me,” he offered. “This bed is plenty big enough for two.” He rested his hand on her back, resisting the urge to pull her against him.

It turned out he didn’t need to, because she scooted a little closer, and leaned into him, glancing up shyly. “I don’t—are you sure?”

Luka nodded, nuzzling her temple without thinking about it. She giggled.

“I wouldn’t have figured you for a cuddler,” she teased, and he grinned, glad to see her more comfortable, and put his arms around her.

“It’s a secret,” he teased back. “Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my image.”

Marinette laughed, and impulsively he kissed her, and she leaned into it, humming softly.

“You’re shaking,” Luka observed, when they parted.

“Cold,” she admitted, squeezing closer to him. “And my whole body feels like jelly. In a good way,” she assured him, with a cheeky smile, and he couldn’t help grinning back.

Luka leaned back and snagged the comforter they had long ago kicked off the end of the bed, and wrapped Marinette in it. She giggled in the puffy cocoon. “What about you?” she asked.

“I sleep hot,” he told her. “I don’t use it anyway.” He stood up and scooped the Marinette cocoon into his arms, laying her down on the bed and climbing back in beside her. He pulled the sheet Marinette had dropped back up over himself, and wrapped his arms around Marinette in her blanket cocoon. She squirmed until she was tucked up under his chin. He found himself drifting off almost immediately. Somewhere in his fuzzy mind he realized he hadn’t talked to her about his intentions, but he was so tired and comfortable that it was barely a speed bump on his way to dreamland.

***

Marinette woke to gentle kisses along her neck and shoulder, and shivered before she was even fully awake. She felt warm breath along her ear and lips pressed into her cheek.

“Good morning, beautiful. Are you a tea or a coffee person?” She rolled onto her back, partially undoing the cocoon of blankets she’d been wound up in. A pleasantly rough hand slipped under the blankets and her shirt—his shirt—to caress her bare belly, and she shivered again, blinking fully awake.

“Hmm,” she sighed, finally processing the question. “Coffee?” She smiled shyly up into Luka’s blue eyes, suppressing another shiver at the look he was giving her. “At least this morning.”

“Cream? Sugar?” he asked, his voice even rougher than the night before, and Marinette bit her lip.

“Please,” she finally managed, and Luka leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth, a long, slow kiss like the ones he had given her as they wound down from their lovemaking. She really liked those. He might be a playboy rock star but he somehow had a way of making her feel like she was the center of the world.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, stroking a hand through her messy hair, and as he pulled back and stood Marinette realized he was already fully dressed, in black ripped jeans dangling with chains, topped with artfully ripped and layered shirts. She swallowed, both appreciating the look on him and suddenly afraid he was about to ditch her or throw her out. He looked ready to get on with his day. What time was it? He hadn’t struck her as an early riser.

Never mind, she told herself as he left the room. She didn’t want to know. Her blanket cocoon was warm and comfortable, and he was bringing her coffee instead of telling her to go home, so he must not be sick of her presence yet. She pulled the wiggled herself at least partially upright, tugging the blanket back up over her shoulders. Luka’s shirt was big enough on her that the collar left a lot of skin exposed to the cold. And his lips, as he’d proved. If he was already dressed, though, he probably wasn’t planning on an encore this morning. She hadn’t been either, but found herself disappointed anyway.

She tried not to pout. Reluctantly, she wiggled herself out of the comforter long enough to find her phone and purse, but the battery was dead. Marinette felt a pang of guilt; she probably should have at least let Alya know she had met up with her mystery man and was fine, but it was too late now. Some investigation proved that while Luka’s charger was on the nightstand, it wasn’t compatible with her phone.

Oh well. She tucked the phone back in her tiny clutch and set it on the table, then went to cocoon herself in the blankets again. She felt really good; more relaxed than she had been since that cancellation call. Even if Luka was done with her, she definitely got the stress relief she was looking for.

Then again, he had supposedly told Alya he wanted to meet her, so maybe…

That was just stupid though. No expectations, no disappointments, Marinette reminded herself. If all she had was a good night—a great night—that was plenty. She felt more relaxed than she had in weeks. Months. She tucked her legs up in the blankets and sighed, leaning back against the headboard. This was a really nice hotel room. Suite. It was a suite, they’d had to navigate past the sitting room to get to the bedroom last night. The rock star life, she thought, a smile quirking her lips.

Might as well enjoy it while she had it.

***

Luka sent his assistant for better coffee than the hotel could offer, and ducked into the gift shop. It took longer than he would have liked, just like everything did since he became famous, but he was able to get out with his purchases just as Emilio returned with the coffee. Luka refused help, hanging the gift shop bag on his wrist and taking both cups of coffee. He let Emilio push the elevator button, and smiled acknowledgement of his reminder about the flight that afternoon.

Marinette didn’t look anything like an art piece when he shouldered his way back into the room, and Luka laughed at her cute face peeking from the pile of coverlet she was once again wrapped in. “You look cozy,” he told her, setting the coffee on the uselessly small table in the room. He set the bag from the gift shop in front of her. “I got you some warmer things to wear if you can bear to come out of there.”

He looked away while she wriggled out and changed into the sweatshirt and yoga pants he’d managed to get for her.

“I’m done,” she said, and he looked back, breaking into a grin at the slightly oversized “I heart Paris” sweatshirt. The sleeves threatened to creep over her hands as she cradled her cup of coffee, inhaling the scent before she took a careful sip.

“Good?” he asked, once again completely charmed. He liked the way she took time to savor things. Her pretty eyes darted around the room, and he wondered what she was thinking. It seemed to him like her mind never stopped. He remembered the way she had looked over him when he came into the lounge last night, the slight tilt of her head and the sense of being…analyzed in some way, before she decided to make her move. It clashed a little with her sweet softness this morning, and he found himself chuckling. It wasn’t the first time he had hooked up with a groupie, and somehow he always seemed to pick the soft ones, no matter how brazen they seemed in the moment.

“You’re up early,” Marinette commented, and then frowned. “Actually, what time is it?”

“Coming up on eleven,” Luka said, glancing at his phone. “But yeah, I had a business meeting this morning.” He rolled his eyes. “Corporate sponsors have no respect for rock star hours. They were pitching to take over our merch sales.”

“What company?” Marinette asked curiously. “If you can tell me,” she added, and Luka smiled. He whispered the company name in her ear. It wasn’t really a secret, he hadn’t signed an NDA yet, but he felt like teasing her a bit.

She wrinkled her nose, but said nothing. Luka quirked an eyebrow, curious about her reaction. “What?”

Marinette shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “Nothing. It’s none of my business.”

“Tell me anyway.”

She sighed and gave a little pout, then put her coffee down. “Their quality is terrible. Which isn’t necessarily a negative for you , I guess. If the shirts fall apart faster then fans will just buy more.” Luka frowned at the cynicism in her voice. “If it were me, though, I’d rather pay more for something that will last a little longer. If I’m going to pay to put my logo on something I don’t want it to fade out after a few washes. Of course, you could always work out some kind of split production, so the younger fans can buy the cheaper stuff and the die-hards that have the will or the money can pony up for the quality stuff, but that—” she paused, seeing his gaze on her, and blushed. “Like I said, that’s not really my business,” she finished, picking up her coffee quickly again.

Luka wasn’t even sure what kind of face he was making, caught in a tangled net of feelings he couldn’t quite figure out. He was surprised, he was impressed, he was chagrined, and kind of embarrassed that he hadn’t given anywhere near as much thought to the issue, which had come up several times in the last few months, as Marinette had in five minutes.

Marinette set her coffee down and hopped off the bed, mumbling something about needing the bathroom, and Luka just watched her go, mouth open slightly.

***

Marinette felt better after a shower, and dressed once again in her tourist trap giftware with a sigh. She needed to apologize to Luka, she decided. She shouldn’t be butting into his business. It wasn’t like she was his girlfriend. She didn’t have any right to be grilling him on his business practices.

He was sitting in the suite’s little living room, sipping his own coffee while he scrolled through something on a tablet.

“Um,” she began, shifting nervously, and he looked up, setting down the tablet. “I’m sorry. If it seemed like I was criticizing you earlier. I wasn’t, it’s really none of my business, I know I said that already, but, um. I know you probably have a lot of decisions to make, or you have people that make those decisions for you, and you probably know a lot more about the s-situation than I do, so, I just. Sorry if I—” She trailed off, as if not actually sure what she was sorry for.

Luka beckoned her, and she walked slowly towards him. When she was close enough, he took her hand and pulled her close, wrapping her up in his arms. After a stiff moment, she relaxed into him and sat on his knee to lean her face into his neck.

“I wasn’t offended,” he told her quietly, “and I will definitely ask for samples before we go any further. It’s not something I thought about, and I should have. I’m not out to rip off my fans.” Her head shot up but he put a finger across her lips. “I know. I’m not offended. Actually I really appreciate you being straight with me. It’s hard to find these days.” He smiled, looking fondly up into her shocked face. “You’re—” He stopped, because he couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound trite or overused. Special. Different. Not like other girls. He’d sound like a pickup artist.

He suddenly found himself wishing he’d met her in a more casual way.

She was still blinking at him, and he realized she was still waiting for him to finish his sentence. Since he couldn’t, he leaned up and kissed her, softly, in a way he hoped conveyed reassurance and affection, and not just lust.

“You keep doing that,” she murmured, when their lips parted.

“Should I stop?” he smiled, a little crookedly.

“No, I—I like it,” she admitted, blushing faintly. “Just. Um.” Her gaze flicked to the bed behind them and then returned to his with something like guilt. “I didn’t expect it.”

“I didn’t expect you,” Luka replied, without thinking. Marinette blinked in surprise, and Luka bit his lip, feeling his own color rising. “I really like you, Marinette.”

She looked down. Her fingers at the nape of his neck twitched, and twined though a strand of his hair. “I like you too,” she whispered, and Luka grinned. “But you…” she trailed off, and met his eyes again, looking…sad.

Reality came crashing in on Luka and he sucked in a breath. Right. He was leaving. Soon, in fact, he realized, as he looked at the clock.

“Come with me,” he blurted, and was immediately convinced it was the best idea he’d ever had.

Marinette looked confused. “Where?”

“To New York. To start with, at least.” Luka slid her off his lap, and then moved to squat in front of her so they were facing each other. “I want—” he stalled, words again getting tangled up in his head. “I have a sense about people. I’ve learned to trust my instincts, and right now they’re telling me I shouldn’t let you just disappear. I want you to come on tour with me.” He swallowed and tried to grin. “I know it sounds crazy. ”

“It’s completely crazy,” Marinette cried, voice gone squeaky and breathless.

“I’ll make it work,” he insisted. “Worst case scenario, we have some fun, you can hang out at the hotel while I do my shows, we see the sights, and I buy you a plane ticket home when you get sick of me.” His tone softened. “I’m just not ready to tell you goodbye, Marinette.”

She gave him a smile that twitched, like she didn’t want to but she couldn’t help it. “That sounds like a song.”

“It absolutely does,” Luka agreed fervently. His whole body was thrumming with—something. Adrenaline or anticipation or fear or— “Please come with me, Marinette.”

Marinette took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Setting aside that the whole idea was fucking crazy —could she do it? She knew she could, even before she went down a mental list of commitments. Wasn’t that the whole reason she had been out on this stupid scheme to begin with? Because she was in a work slump with no immediate obligations to fulfill, no responsibilities at the bakery with her parents in Shanghai for the month. No one to hang out with, no one who needed her. And she hadn’t known what to do with herself.

So…why not do something crazy? Something no one would expect boring little Marinette to do?

And…the way he was looking at her, eyes intense and shining, practically vibrating with—she wasn’t sure what. Suspense? Excitement? Was this just a…thrill seeking type thing for him?

He saw her hesitation and fidgeted a bit on his heels, licking his lips. Preparing for rejection.

She unconsciously licked her own lips, and then offered a trembling smile. “Okay.”

Luka’s eyes lit up and he leaned in, placing a hand on hers and squeezing tightly enough to give his excitement away, even though all he said was, “Are you sure?”

And she was. “Yeah,” she grinned. “Let’s do it. I-if you really want to.”

Luka grabbed her face in both hands and kissed her hard. “I definitely want to. Let me make some calls. Do you have a passport?” He drew up short, as if just that moment realizing that that might be a dealbreaker. Even rock stars needed passports.

“Oh, mm-hmm.” Marinette turned towards her purse on the table and pulled out her wallet and passport to show him.”

Luka laughed. “You have it with you?”

“I like to be prepared,” Marinette defended, blushing. “Though this thing is so small I can’t carry half of what I usually do.” She couldn’t help smiling as Luka leaned forward and kissed her cheek again.

“No complaints here. That’ll make things easier. I’ll buy you anything else you need.”

“Luka, you can’t—” Marinette began, growing alarmed as the practicalities of the situation began to set in. Plane tickets, clothes—she didn’t even have anything comfortable to wear on the plane, she didn’t have her phone charger—the hotel could probably give her a toothbrush, but—

Luka’s finger on her lips interrupted both her protest and her spiraling thoughts. “Trust me, it’ll be the smartest thing I’ve spent money on since the band took off. I’m dragging you to a whole other country on no notice. Let me at least be a gentleman about it.” He flashed her an incongruously wicked grin, caressing her lips with his fingertip before he drew it away and turned to find his phone.

The bounce in his step made her smile despite her worries. Well, he was a good guy. Or at least she thought so, based on…nothing at all. This was insane. She was crazy.

Marinette took another breath, fighting down another wave of panic. No, it was fine. She had friends in the States that could help her out if she really needed it, humiliating as that would be, but it wouldn’t come to that anyway. She had her own money saved, after all, and if Luka turned out to be a complete douche and left her stranded somewhere once he lost interest, she’d be able to get herself home just fine.

He wouldn’t though. Something inside her was sure of it.

Marinette sighed, burying her face in the pillow to let out a quiet little scream.

At least no one would ever be able to call her boring again. Are you happy now, Alya?

***

Luka’s hands shook and he paced as he dialed Lucille’s number. He was reasonably confident that she could do what he was about to ask, but he wasn’t so sure about how she was going to take this. He had a fair number of one night stands, sure, but wasn’t that much of a playboy as rock stars go and he had certainly never asked to bring a hookup along on tour with him before.

Still, this was going to be hard to explain. He didn’t want to have to pull the “you work for me ” card. That wouldn’t be fair to her with all that she did for him.

When he explained the situation, though, all he really got was…silence.

“I know this sounds really crazy—” he began, but shut his mouth when Lucille cut him off.

“Your personal life isn’t my business,” she said briskly. “Just tell me what you need, and I’ll make it happen.

Luka winced at the implied disapproval, but decided it was best just to roll with it.

“Hey, can you—can you get her a room in the hotel in New York?” he asked. “I—” He paused, not sure how to put “I don’t want her to feel pressured to fuck me every night” in professional terms.

“Will do,” Lucille said, still in that clipped, matter-of-fact tone. “Do you want it near you or farther away?”

“Near is good.” Luka cleared his throat. “Next door would probably be fine.” He paused. “Can you find us a good place to eat one night while we’re there? Something fancy but not too touristy. Maybe some broadway tickets? She’d probably like that.” Not that he really knew anything about what she liked, but surely someone on the crew would take the tickets if Marinette didn’t want to go.

“Um…” That seemed to throw Lucille. “I can probably do that.”

“I know we’re on a really tight schedule in Chicago, but what about LA, is it whale season there? Can we book a whale-watching cruise?”

“I don’t really know, I’ll check. Whales might be farther north than LA proper.”

“Okay, well see if we can make time to get up there if so. See if we can schedule some beach time in between rehearsals, too.”

“O-okay. I can do that.”

Luka frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lucille said quickly. “You’re just not usually interested in that kind of stuff.”

“I don’t usually have time,” Luka replied, and then bit his lip. He didn’t really have time on this trip, either. “Just see if we can make it work. I don’t want to cause any problems for anyone.”

“It should be fine,” Lucille told him firmly. “I’ve told you before you work longer hours than you need to on tour. I’m…glad you’re thinking about taking some time.”

“Yeah,” Luka said lamely.

“Make sure your lady friend has all her documents in order. I can’t negotiate immigration and customs rules.”

“I will,” Luka promised. “What’s the absolute latest time I can get to the airport? Can we make a stop at her place before?”

“It’ll have to be a short stop or we’ll lose our departure slot,” Lucille sighed. “Your car’s already on the way to pick you up. Where does she live?”

“Uh—” Luka went back to the bedroom of his suite, and cracked open the door. “Marinette?”

***

They darted from the car to the back door of the bakery, neither keen on advertising Luka’s famous face following her inside. Marinette had asked if he wanted to wait in the car, but Luka found he really didn’t. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was afraid Marinette would panic if he let her out of his sight or because of the intense curiosity he had been feeling about her since she agreed to this mad adventure.

“Don’t say anything,” Marinette warned him as they went up the stairs. “I know it’s really childish looking, and I’ve been meaning to redecorate for years, but then I kept thinking I was moving out, and…none of it ever happened.” Marinette looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her messy bun was adorable, but it didn’t look very stable.

“Don’t apologize for liking what you like,” Luka told her sincerely, looking at the very girly pink room. Not what he would have expected from the girl he saw leaning on the bar last night, but now that he’d spent time with her, it fit. Another bit of that song he’d been thinking about clicked into place as he squeezed Marinette’s hand. “We’ve got ten minutes,” he told her. “Just grab the personal stuff you really need. We can pick up anything you forget Stateside.”

“Right. Okay.” Marinette hesitated for a moment, making abortive moves in several different directions before committing to one. Luka chuckled, but once she got moving, she moved like lightning. Before he could blink there was a pink polkadot hardshell suitcase open on the chaise, and Marinette’s distractingly perfect lips were silently moving as she pivoted and ducked and grabbed items to throw inside. Despite his offer to buy her clothes, she threw her closet door open and snatched things off hangers to stuff in the bag. She pulled something red and sparkly out of a drawer that absolutely piqued Luka’s interest, but it was in the bag before he could get more than a glimpse. He started to take a step forward but had to step right back when Marinette rushed by him, muttering under her breath. He could feel the manic energy spilling out of her and his hand twitched with the urge to grab hers, to pull her in and get her to breathe for a minute—but they really didn’t have much time, so he clamped down on the impulse and let her do what she needed to do.

He couldn’t help glancing around curiously, taking in the different types of sewing machines, the cones of thread, several poster boards of color swatches and pictures. Mood boards, he realized. “You’re a designer?” he asked, and Marinette paused, turning to look at him in surprise. He nodded towards the mood boards. “My sister’s a model,” he explained. “I’ve seen a designer’s studio before.”

“Oh—well—I mean, yes, but—it’s complicated,” she said, and Luka nodded.

“Sorry, don’t let me distract you,” he said, waving her on. They were on a schedule, after all. He shouldn’t have interrupted her flow, it was just…He let his eyes rove over the pictures and clippings on the walls and resisted the impulse to poke around on her desk.

She paused in the middle of the room, silently ticking off her fingers as if going through a mental list. Then she did one more quick spin, eyes roving over the room. She turned to her suitcase and shut it, leaning on the lid as she reached down to snap the clasps. She pulled it off the chair and set it on its wheels on the floor. She looked up at him with a delighted grin. Her eyes were bright and her hair had come loose from all her sharp turns, and her beautiful eyes were huge and bright with excitement.

I love this girl, Luka thought giddily, and then had to choke on a laugh. What? Where did that even come from? Spending the night with a girl and then standing in her apartment for less than ten minutes—who decides they’re in love after that ?

Me, apparently, he thought, feeling the grin growing on his face as he looked back at her. Don’t be stupid, Luka. You’ll get overinvested and end up breaking the girl’s heart, if you don’t scare her off before we even make it to the airport.

He was already reaching to offer his hand, though, and she took it, dragging her suitcase behind her as they headed for the staircase.

Marinette was still going through things in her mind as Luka carried her suitcase down the stairs, trying to make sure she had everything she needed and reassuring herself that they weren’t traveling into the wilderness, and she could probably buy anything she had missed as long as she had her important documents with her.

The driver was leaning against the car, frowning at his phone and obviously anxious to leave. Luka gave him Marinette’s suitcase to throw in the back, and then opened the door. Marinette almost tripped in her hurry to get in and keep them from being delayed any longer. She rubbed her ankle as Luka slid in beside her. Marinette lurched against him as the anxious driver pulled sharply into the traffic.

“Sorry,” she gasped as he helped her right herself. She groped for the seatbelt, and jerked it across herself, snapping it into the buckle as they made another sharp turn.

Luka let out a breath as he finished doing the same, and leaned back. “Gotta love Paris traffic,” he sighed, and added under his breath, “and Paris drivers. Not that New York is much better.”

Marinette smiled a little shakily, twisting her hands together in her lap.

Back in the car, Luka took her hand, gently curling his fingers around it. “How are you feeling? Still sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” Marinette smiled, surprised to realize she meant it—the little voice screaming in her head that this was crazy seemed to have given up for now. She was absolutely doing this. Impulsively, she leaned in and curled her hand around the back of Luka’s neck, pulling him into a kiss. He made a pleased noise in the back of his throat and opened his mouth for her as his hand left hers to squeeze her thigh.

The kiss was hot, and it sent shivers down her body, but it was different from the desperate, hungry energy of the night before. Softer, longer, not so rushed or single-minded. This was kissing for the enjoyment of it, not as a rush to something else. Luka’s hand on her thigh came up to cup her cheek, and he managed to wiggle his other arm between her and the seat to wrap around her waist, his fingers kneading gently into her lower back.

She pulled away sooner than she wanted to, conscious of the driver in the front, though he was so busy swearing under his breath at the other cars that she hoped he hadn’t taken too much note of the spectacle she was making. Luka let her break from him, but kept kissing her cheek, her jaw, up near her ear, until she scolded him quietly and put a hand on his chest to stop him from leaning in again. He grinned at her and settled back against the seat with his arm around her shoulders. Marinette smiled and leaned on him, breathing in his clean scent and light cologne.

She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew was Luka quietly calling her name. She had just enough time to register that before the car door opening made her jump, and Luka helped her out of the car as she tried to bring herself fully awake.

“Sorr—” she began, but Luka hushed her.

“There will probably be reporters,” he told her, putting his arm around her waist. “Don’t say anything and don’t let anyone separate us. If the cameras bother you just hide your face on me. I’ll handle the rest.”

Marinette nodded, still feeling a little confused. “My bag—”

“My staff will handle it. Ready?”

She wasn’t, but she nodded anyway. Luka kept her hip pressed tight to his as they walked into the crowd of reporters. Figuring it was better to look shy than bewildered, Marinette turned her face into Luka’s arm. She peeked just enough to see where they were going and to see black-clad security making a path for them. Luka just walked straight forward, answering no questions and keeping a calm, disinterested expression. This must be normal for him, she figured. He was used to it.

She wasn’t exactly used to it, but Luka’s calm made it easy to keep her own, and she just concentrated on not tripping on her own feet or Luka’s.

“You all right?” he asked, once they were inside. “You handled that well.”

“Y-yeah,” she said, and tried to smile up at him.

“Sorry, I should have warned you about that. They’ll probably pop up a few more times until we get through security, but then we should be clear, at least for a while.”

“It’s all right.”

It wasn’t Marinette’s first introduction to the lifestyles of the rich and famous, but they’d never been up in her face before. She was, she admitted to herself, a little shaken, but not too much.

Everything went fast after that. Despite her cadre of famous friends, Marinette was still caught off-guard at how much easier everything could be when people knew your face. In some ways, at least.

Luka did stop in the airport for pictures with fans, and to sign a few autographs, but a short, stocky young man turned up before they were halfway to the security desk and began hustling them along.

“Oh good, you made it,” he puffed, a little out of breath and a little red in the face. “We need to get you through security and then you can schmooze if you want.”

“Marinette, this is Emilio,” Luka said dryly, giving her an apologetic grin as he lengthened his stride a bit. Emilio was only a little taller than Marinette but he set a brisk pace. “He’s my assistant. It’s his job to make sure I get where I’m supposed to be before I’m supposed to get there.”

Emilio rolled his eyes. “He’d never get anywhere on time if it weren’t for me.”

“That’s not my fault,” Luka protested.

“You’re just too nice to say no to fans without me to be the bad guy,” Emilio shot back.

“That is why I hired you,” Luka admitted.

Emilio rolled his eyes, and then offered Marinette a flustered grin. “Nice to meet you, miss.”

“Marinette,” she put in.

“Marinette. Sorry to rush you both along—”

“You know we’re just going to end up sitting in the lounge waiting on the crew to get the plane ready,” Luka complained.

“—but security doesn’t care how famous you are,” Emilio finished pointedly.

Luka rolled his eyes, but kept pace with Emilio, Marinette’s hand clutched in his own.

***

“I hate the hurry up and wait schtick,” Luka complained, reaching to open the door to the private rich-people lounge. “But it’s so much better than it was when we were flying commercial. At least it’ll be quiet in here.” He hesitated, and pulled his hand back, taking Marinette’s arm and moving her a few steps away.

“What’s wrong?” Marinette asked.

“I just figured we should get our story straight before we go in there,” Luka replied with an embarrassed smile that Marinette found rather sweet. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” Marinette said, blinking. “That makes sense.”

Luka seemed to hesitate for a moment, licking his lips as he tried to decide what he wanted to say. She had noticed that it sometimes took him a moment to think through his words, and she found she liked it—both that he was so careful and thoughtful about what he said, and the reminder that, famous or not, in some ways he was still just a regular guy.

“Would you be comfortable with me introducing you as my girlfriend?” he finally asked. “That would probably be simplest.”

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” she asked slowly. “Or if I’m okay with being called that?”

Luka shrugged, and she was amused to see the high points of his cheeks turning pink. “Either. Both. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He hesitated again, and then said quickly, “Yes, I’m asking you to be my girlfriend. For however long this lasts, at least.”

Marinette wasn’t sure if she was more thrown by the request or by the corollary.

Luka sighed, running his fingers through his hair, and let his bag slip off his shoulder to the floor. “This is why I hate labels,” he muttered, and then tried to grin at her. “We can talk about what all it means when we get to New York and have some privacy, I promise. Right now I just mean that I’m with you and only you, until you—or we, I guess—decide we want something to change. Does that work?”

Marinette considered that for a moment, and then nodded. It would make things easier to have a title that people understood, and it came with a set of assumptions that would benefit them both for now. He was right, and they could work out the real meaning of what they were to each other when they got to New York. Worst case scenario, we have some fun, you can hang out at the hotel while I do my shows, we see the sights, and I buy you a plane ticket home when you get sick of me. For the first time it occurred to her to wonder what he considered the best case scenario.

The quick flash of his smile, a real smile, and the excitement in his eyes as he picked up his bag and took her hand, made her smile too, and she let him lead her into the lounge.

There was a group of people lounging in and around chairs, most of them sporting earbuds amongst the glint of their piercings. Luka called out to them, and they all smiled, turning towards him.

“Guys, this is Marinette, my girlfriend.” He grinned at her like the word delighted him, despite his grumbling about labels. “She’s going to be hanging out with us for the next few stops.”

The reactions were all surprised to some degree, but then friendly as they nodded, smiled, or gave a small wave. Marinette made a self-conscious little wave of her own. “Nice to meet you all,” she said. “Sorry if I made Luka late.”

She got a few chuckles at that. One green-haired girl rolled her eyes with a good-natured smile, and said, “We’re always waiting on somebody or other, it feels like. I guess it’s Luka’s turn. We’re not on the plane yet so we probably have at least another hour before we can take off anyway.”

Marinette smiled back, and tried to pay attention while Luka gave names and roles. Then he tugged her away, pulling her towards a separate group of chairs.

“Don’t you want to sit with your friends?” Marinette asked.

“Later,” Luka told her, squeezing her hand. “I have some things I want to work on, and I need a little space.” He gave her hand another little tug before she could offer to leave him alone. “You can stay, I don’t mind. And I’m definitely not leaving you with those maniacs by yourself.”

Marinette laughed, and sat down in the seat he indicated.

“You want a drink?” Luka asked, and when she nodded, he went to the lounge’s little bar and brought back two bottles of water. Marinette was already digging in her capacious purse.

“I need to call Alya,” she sighed, pulling out the phone charger she had stuffed into it during her packing frenzy. She plugged her phone and charger into the port in the table next to her as Luka set her water down on it. “She’s probably frothing at the mouth by now. How do you know her, anyway?”

“Know who?” Luka asked, settling back with a notebook balanced on one knee and the other water bottle in his hand.

“Alya.” Marinette watched him throw his head back and drink, and had to look away.

“I don’t know anyone named Alya,” he said when he lowered the bottle.

Marinette frowned at him, twisting open her own water. “Alya Cesaire? She said you wanted to meet me last night. That’s why I was in the lounge. Security let me in and everything.”

Luka’s eyebrows raised slightly. “I didn’t know you were going to be in the lounge. It was supposed to be closed off to the public.”

“It was. I had to get Security to let me in.”

“They just let you in?”

“Well, I had to give them my name at the backstage door, and then they took me to the lounge and let me in. Because you asked to meet me.”

Luka shook his head slowly. “I don’t know who you were supposed to meet there, but it wasn’t me. I’m glad you were there, but I definitely didn’t ask to meet you.”

Marinette stared at him for a full three seconds, not even blinking, before she could get his words to make sense. “O-oh. Oh. Oh, um.” She put a hand over her mouth. “S-she didn’t tell me who I was supposed to be meeting, and when you came in I thought—oh my God. Oh my God. ”

Luka frowned, studying her face. “Does it have to change anything?”

“Yes! …No. No, I guess it doesn’t. Shouldn’t it though?” She moved her hand to her forehead, feeling almost dizzy from the sudden change in her perspective.

“I don’t really see why.” Luka picked up her other hand, rubbing his thumb across the back of it. “We met. We had a good time. We liked each other and we want to see where things go.” He hesitated. “I mean, if you really wanted to meet this mystery person then—”

Marinette shook her head weakly. She hadn’t really cared that much, and had only gone to make

Alya happy, and because she was bored and depressed and any kind of escape from her daily life seemed appealing.

Well. She sure got that much, didn’t she? She was shaking, and could barely meet Luka’s gaze as he continued, “Then…it seems like we should be okay?”

“I guess we are, I just…” Marinette shrank a little, grabbing a handful of hair and tugging sharply. “I feel stupid. I thought—I mean I thought you wanted me, all that time, and—”

“I did,” Luka cut her off, squeezing her hand. “From the moment I saw you leaning against that bar.”

“Not like that ,” Marinette groaned, and then amended, “Well, not just like that. I mean—” She stopped, her thoughts hopelessly tangled, trying to figure out what she had been thinking last night—was it only last night? It seemed like so long ago.

“It’s not just like that,” Luka said, pulling her knuckles to her lips. “Not anymore. I promise, Marinette. So let’s just roll with it, okay?” He cupped her cheek to turn her face towards him, and she took in the worried look on his face. Her breath hitched a little, and then she put her hand over his.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” She smiled at him. He smiled back, and leaned forward to kiss her softly.

“Anytime you want out, you just tell me,” he whispered. “I’ll send you straight home, no hard feelings.”

“I don’t want out,” she blurted, almost before he was done talking. “I don’t, Luka. I’m sorry, it just…it startled me.” She studied him. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“A little,” Luka admitted. “I don’t really love the idea that you only—” he glanced towards the band, but no one was paying attention to them, “—did what you did because you were expecting—” he paused. “What were you expecting?”

Marinette groaned, putting her face in her hand. “I don’t even know. Honestly, Alya’s setups have never worked out before. I just thought—well, when I saw you, I thought…” She felt her face going redder and redder.

“You thought, you might as well hit that?”

“No!” Marinette said, horrified, but when she looked up she saw that Luka was grinning.

“Hey, I’m not going to pretend I was thinking anything different,” he teased. “But I think it worked out.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, and Marinette burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it, he looked so silly.

“It did,” she giggled. “And now I’m running away with the hot rock star.”

“You’re the first groupie I’ve ever kidnapped,” Luka teased. Despite his light tone, she felt the way his grip on her hand softened. Not like he was letting go, more just a release of tension. She’d worried him, she realized.

“I’m glad things turned out the way they did,” she told him, making sure to meet his eyes and squeeze his hand back. His shoulders relaxed a little, and she smiled at him with genuine fondness. She was learning to read him, she realized. He kept a lot behind that laid back attitude, she was beginning to see.

Still.

“I really need to talk to Alya now,” she groaned.

“You need me to give you a minute?” Luka asked, and she shook her head, picking up her phone. It had enough battery now to power on and sure enough, there were a bunch of messages waiting for her. One was just a check in from her parents, and she sent them back a quick, mostly-true reply. She didn’t bother with the ones from Alya, just hit the button to call her. She held it away from her ear until she heard Alya’s voice screeching her name—her full name, of course, and then brought it back to her ear when Alya’s voice dropped to a more normal volume.

“Where have you been ?” Alya demanded. “I almost called the police and reported you missing. Adrien said you never showed up and—”

“ Adrien ?” Marinette demanded, and Luka glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. “The mystery man you wanted me to meet was Adrien? ”

“Yes, and you blew it!”

“There was nothing to blow, Alya!” Marinette exclaimed, and then scowled at Luka when he choked on a laugh next to her. She flailed her hand in his direction, smacking his shoulder a couple of times, while he tried to smother his chortling. “Would you please just let that whole thing go? Why on earth would you think I wanted to meet him?” Dressed like that, she thought, slapping a hand on her face. What a disaster that would have been, she was sure.

“Oh, come on, he said he wanted to see you, and he’d been missing you a lot, and I just knew he’d finally gotten a clue and you were so hot last night I thought for sure—”

“She’s not wrong,” Luka muttered, and Marinette whipped her head around to glare at him. He shrugged. “Sorry, she’s loud.”

“Anyway,” Alya said, finally taking a breath, as Marinette turned her back to Luka. “Never mind all of that, where were you? You stood him up and—”

“I thought he stood me up!” Marinette broke in. “He was late ! I almost left, I decided to just have a quick drink first, and then L—and then someone came in, and I thought he was who you were setting me up with, and—and we went out. For a while.” She wouldn’t turn and look at Luka. She wouldn’t. She was sure he was laughing at her again. “My phone died. Alya, I can’t believe you tried to set me up with Adrien again. And you didn’t even warn me!”

“Adrien’s always late these days, it’s the cost of fame. He can’t walk to the bathroom without getting stopped for autographs and selfies, and he’s too nice to say no.”

“Well, you should have warned me about that too then.”

“I just thought you’d be less of a spazz if you didn’t have time to overthink it first!”

Marinette closed her eyes. “Alya, when has that ever worked.” Especially with Adrien.

“Okay, okay,” Alya groaned. “I just thought, it would be so romantic, one last chance after you both thought that it was over for good—it would have made such a story!”

“I’m not a story, Alya,” Marinette folded her free arm and pouted.

“Well there must be some story. Spill it, Marinette, who’s the guy you ran into? Please don’t tell me you blew off Adrien Agreste, Supermodel Actor, for some pathetic roadie who bought you a drink.”

Marinette’s eyebrows raised, and she glanced over her shoulder at Luka. “I definitely did not do that. I’ll tell you about it later, I’m—” about to get on a plane with a guy I just met “—busy.”

“And we’re back to the same old refrain,” Alya groaned. “You need to live a little, Marinette.”

“I’m hanging up now, Alya.”

“Marineeeeeeeeeette,” Alya whined, but Marinette rolled her eyes and ended the call.

She dropped the phone on the table and folded her arms, sinking into her chair as she pouted.

“You okay?” Luka asked, draping his arm behind her and letting his fingers play with her loose hair.

“Yeah.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “She’s just determined to make me the main character in one of her screenplays, I swear. You’d think a writer would know better how unrealistic that all is.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and Marinette closed her eyes as Luka’s fingers moved to the back of her neck, massaging gently.

“Well, if you want,” he said slowly, and she looked at him. “We can absolutely give her a story. Maybe not the one she was hoping for, but…”

Marinette tilted her head curiously. “What do you mean?”

Luka leaned toward her, a wicked grin on his face that made her insides melt a little, and whispered a plan in her ear.

Marinette’s mouth twitched as she tried to keep in her smile. “I’ll think about it.”

***

The band’s private jet made her jaw drop in spite of herself.

“Wow,” she muttered under her breath.

“Yeah, it seems a little extravagant,” Luka confessed, running a self-conscious hand through his hair. “But commercial travel just got too difficult with all of our gear and the band and the staff. Not to mention the fans and the reporters. It’s just easier this way, and I have to admit, way more comfortable for an 8-hour flight. We use trains here on the continent but it’s hard to get around the US that way.”

“It’s really nice,” Marinette said, smiling at him. It was, too, with large, plush single seats on each side and a matching couch beyond. There was a sliding wood-panel pushed aside so that she could see the same type of single seats lining the cabin beyond.

“It keeps us from killing each other at least,” he said lightly. “Pick a seat. We’ll stay up here so you—so we can have some privacy.”

Marinette sat a little gingerly in one of the plush seats. There was a wooden rail at her elbow with drink holders in it

“Need anything else?” Luka asked, and Marinette smiled at him, and shook her head.

“I’m good.”

“Do you mind if I leave you for a bit?” he asked, tilting his head towards the couch behind the forward-facing seats. A slightly battered looking black-and-white guitar was strapped into a stand there. “I have some things I’d like to work on while we’re in the air.”

“Of course. I don’t want to get in the way of your work.”

He smiled at her. “Come and get me or call Emilio if you need anything.”

Marinette pulled her own notebook out of her bag. She curled up in the plane seat and looked out of the window, idly sketching random shapes as a warmup.

Luka also warmed up behind her, playing scales and other short ditties she didn’t know well enough to identify. Eventually he segued into another tune that she recognized from the concert, and then another.

Then he started playing something she hadn’t heard before. The melody inexplicably made her heart beat faster. It was new, but also…familiar. Not the tune, but the way it made her feel. It reminded her of…

Marinette peeked around the side of her seat and watched him for a moment. Luka was electric on stage, charged up and full of energy, but his face now was thoughtful, his brow slightly furrowed, his eyes closed even though his fingers were moving unerringly across the strings. Occasionally he would stop and go back, replaying a piece he’d just done but with some changes. It was a fascinating look at a process Marinette had never put much thought into.

Just then, someone—she thought it was the drummer, but she was still fuzzy on names—stuck their head in through the partition. “That a new one, Luka?” he asked, and Luka made an affirmative noise, but didn’t look up from his instrument. Apparently this was normal for him, because the person just grinned, and then grinned wider when he saw Marinette, and disappeared back behind the partition.

Marinette relaxed back in her seat, looking out of the window. The sun was setting, and she took out her colored pencils to capture the colors. It was weirdly refreshing, she found, to be drawing without a real goal, without a client or a concept in mind. Just…exploring, and recording, and letting her thoughts go where they wanted. She jotted notes on the margin or the next page any time something interesting occurred to her, but otherwise she just let her mind wander. She sketched the sunset, and then the pattern of the wood grain on the drink rail beside her, and anything else that caught her eye. Then she started sketching from memory; the backlit drink display from last night, one of Luka’s tattoos, the curve of his shoulder and neck emerging from the sheet—

Why couldn’t she stop thinking about that all of a sudden? She swallowed and turned the page.

“Hey.” She jumped as Luka’s voice came from behind her. “You still doing okay?” he asked, with a smile.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she said, unsuccessfully covering a yawn.

“I’m done for a little while,” he said. “If you want you can come lay on the couch back here and take a nap. It’s going to be late night Paris time by the time we land in New York.”

“Thanks. I might in a little while.”

“I’ve got to take a meeting with the guys in the back,” he said, stroking a gentle hand over her hair. “I’ll be back in a little bit. Call me if—”

“—I need anything.” She smiled. “I’m really fine.”

“Okay.” He leaned forward, and kissed her forehead before retreating to the back of the plane. She heard some catcalls and whistles and a good-natured, “Yeah, yeah, knock it off,” before he slid the partition shut.

It was funny, she thought, he really did treat her like she was his girlfriend, and not just a fuckbuddy or arm candy, either. The idea of that chat they were supposed to have, about what they really were to each other, suddenly made her stomach feel funny.

This whole scenario was so insane. She couldn’t believe she could possibly be so good at sex that the hottest rock star on the planet (in all possible meanings of the world) would be enthralled by her. He hadn’t even tried anything sexual since they went to sleep last night. Though there hadn’t been many private moments. A salacious thought or two crossed her mind about joining the mile high club when he came back, but she wasn’t sure she was bold enough to have sex with him with just that one little fake wood sliding wall separating them from his entire staff.

Marinette licked her lips and closed her sketchbook decisively. No more drawing in this mood. She got out her earphones and plugged them in, and turned some music on her phone. She didn’t have anything from Luka. She’d have to fix that soon. She really had had her head in the sand, Marinette thought, to have missed out on his music for this long. She put her chin on her fist and looked out at the night sky. There wasn’t anything particularly interesting out there now, the jet’s lights drowning at the stars and nothing but clouds or ocean below them, too dark to see clearly.

Before long, she felt her eyes dropping, and her head nodding, so she moved over to the couch and stretched out. It was surprisingly comfortable, though she would have liked a pillow. She folded her arms under her head, and dropped off quickly.

She woke with a start when someone touched her.

“It’s just me,” Luka said, kissing her cheek. “Can I join you?”

Marinette hummed agreement and scooted against the back of the couch. Luka somehow folded his lanky form onto the couch with her, tucking his bent legs between hers. He’d brought a pillow from somewhere that he propped under his own head, and his arms became Marinette’s pillow. Her neck was probably going to complain in the morning, but Luka was warm and smelled nice, and she was asleep again before she could overthink it.

Emilio woke them up in time to strap in for their landing in New York. Luka gave Marinette an adorable sleepy smile as they both buckled in, and he reached his hand across the aisle. Marinette put her hand in his and felt him squeeze it.

The airport wasn’t very full and all the shops were quiet and dark as they walked through. They mostly passed unremarked until they got to the door where their ride would be waiting.

“Pappos ahoy,” Luka said quietly, leaning over Marinette’s shoulder. She could see the people milling around outside of the airport doors and at least one of them had a camera. “Have you decided?”

Marinette looked up at him and nodded.

“Let’s do this then,” Luka grinned, and Marinette had to grin back. She reached up and smoothed her hair self-consciously, and felt Luka’s arm curl around her waist.

They walked out of the door that way, Marinette keeping her face up and smiling brightly. Neither of them spoke to any of the reporters that shouted at them, looking only at each other.

As the driver opened the car door to let them in, they turned to each other. Marinette put her arms around his neck, and pressed up on her toes. He met her halfway in a soft, long kiss, giving plenty of time for the cameras to catch the whole thing. The flurry of shutter clicks was still going when they parted. Luka helped Marinette in the car and then slid in after her, kissing her one more time before the door closed.

There’s your story, Alya, Marinette thought smugly, settling into the car seat.

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