#and references to future brotherfucking I guess?

[verfound]

WIP Wednesday: 8/11/21 (Hey, Brotherf*cker)

So about those twelve or so sentences from Sunday... 👀

At some point between Friday afternoon and Saturday night, Juleka came home and Luka told her he was officially dating Marinette. Marinette knew this because she was pulling a fresh pan of guava cheese pastries out of the oven Saturday morning when her phone buzzed in her back pocket. Once the tray was cooling on a rack, she pulled out her phone to find a text message from Juleka.

JC: hey brotherfucker

Her dad looked up from piping when she squeaked and dropped her phone. She laughed nervously and waved him off, telling him it was just Alya. He laughed and went back to his cake, buying the lie easily enough. Marinette excused herself and raced to the stairwell, dropping onto the steps and tucking herself against the wall before pulling the message thread up again.

…there were two more messages. And a picture.

JC: so I know u’ve got ur heart set on this dumbass, but

She’d attached a picture of Luka…doing laundry, it looked like? He was standing in front of their washing machine, at least, inspecting a shirt through bleary, half-awake eyes. His bangs were pushed back with a headband, he was shirtless, and he was wearing gaudy, hot pink boxers stamped with giant pineapples over white plumerias. His feet were covered in black and blue striped socks that she was pretty sure were supposed to be crew cut, but one of them was bunched around his ankle. The hand that wasn’t holding the shirt was holding a pastry. He seemed completely oblivious to Juleka’s camera.

JC: rly? u sure? not 2 late 2 change ur mind.

JC: (also we need more pastries the asshole ate em all)

Marinette bit her lip to stifle her giggle, tapping the screen of her phone against her forehead before shaking her head. Her mom was calling her to help with a customer a moment later, but she did make sure to pack up an extra box of treats for Luka to take home before she finished her shift. It was waiting on the kitchen counter when he knocked on the door a few hours later.

“So you told Juleka,” she said, smiling when he hugged her.

“You told your parents,” he said, kissing her before he stepped away. “I thought they were going to be here. Tom gave me orders to not do anything he wouldn’t do as they were leaving. I’m…not thinking about what that includes, in context. Kinda creepy coming from your dad.”

“He’s such a…” Marinette groaned, rolling her eyes. She pulled Luka back to her, kissing him. “Ignore him. They’re having dinner with my grandparents. Nonna’s back in town, and when I mentioned you were coming over tonight Maman thought we’d appreciate the time alone.”

“I like your ma,” he said, following her into the kitchen. She’d been washing up the dishes when he’d knocked. “Your dad still kinda scares me, though. He looks at me sometimes like he’s going to break me in half if I look at you too long.”

“You’re allowed to look,” she tutted. She put the last dish in the strainer, turned the water off, and dried her hands. She reached for his and placed them on her hips, grinning. “And touch. I’m not a kid anymore. Papa has to deal with that. Besides, I have it on good authority that he likes you, so I think you’re safe. The real question…” she paused, fishing her phone out of her pocket and pulling up Juleka’s messages. She grinned when she showed him the chain. “Am I safe with Jules?”

“…I’m going to kill her,” he laughed, She grinned.

“Right? I haven’t even fucked you yet,” she said, rolling her eyes. He choked, grabbing at her phone as she went to pull it away. “Ru-”

“Wait, what?” he asked, looking back at the messages. His eyes popped open, and he groaned. “Oh my God, Juleka…I thought you meant the picture. I am so sorry about her. I’ll talk to her.”

“…it’s fine,” she said, taking her phone back. She put it back in her pocket and pulled him back to her, sighing as she snuggled into his chest. “I…I actually kind of like it.”

“…what?” he asked, chuckling like he didn’t believe her. She peeked up at him, grinning.

“I like being her brotherfucker,” she said, her hands scratching lightly against his back. She could feel a blush rising, but it didn’t feel as embarrassing when Luka was staring at her like he was transfixed. “Even…even if I’m not actually fucking her brother. Yet.”

…which was probably how she ended up on the counter, perched precariously next to the sink with her arms and legs wrapped around Luka, who was kissing her like he liked the sound of her being Juleka’s brotherfucker, too. She probably could have said screw the movie and stayed there kissing him, too, except a few minutes into their makeout – right as hands were starting to wander and he’d pushed her too close to the sink and her legs had tightened around him to keep from falling in – her timer started going off. He groaned when she started giggling, pushing him back.

“I’m starting to hate your alarms,” he grumbled as she reached for the timer. She couldn’t quite reach it from where he’d put her, so she nudged him again. “No. I like you here.”

“You’re going to make me burn dinner,” she laughed. He kissed her, his hand squeezing her ass. She jumped, the fact that Luka liked touching her ass still new enough to surprise her, and he smiled as he rubbed the spot he’d squeezed before moving his hand up to slip into her back pocket.

“We can order pizza,” he said. “I know a place.”

“You hate that place,” she laughed. She tapped her foot against the back of his thighs before scooting back – and squeaking as she fell directly into the sink. A bark of laughter escaped him as she sat there, blinking at him in surprised confusion, before she started laughing, too. “Ok, you jerk – help me up!”

“I love you,” he laughed, taking her hands and giving her a tug. Once she was back on her feet, she leaned up to kiss his cheek before grabbing the alarm.

“I love you,” she said, smiling stupidly as the truth of the words settled and warmed in her heart. He leaned back against the counter, watching as she went to pull the skillet holding their dinner out of the oven. “Which is why I’m not going to make you suffer delivery pizza for dinner. Food is the Dupain-Cheng love language – let me cook for you, ok?”